LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Gl  FT    OF 


Class 


.Autumn  Ceaves 


UNIVERSITY 


i 


San  Francisco 

1908 


Mlaria  Marlon 

1908 


ss  of 

San  Tranclsco 


$ 


AS 


*~A  utumu^Ceavcs  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Pub- 
/^•V  lisher  (BRUCE  BROUGH)  at  the  time  of  the 
Great  Fire  of  April,  1906,  and  not  a  single  page  of 
the  original  manuscript  was  saved.  I  could  only 
recall  a  few  titles,  and  a  line  or  two  here  and  there, 
not  knowing  though  where  they  belonged.  I  began 
to  rewrite  on  the  12th  of  June,  1908,  and  on  the 
12th  of  September,  1908,  it  was  ready  for  publica 
tion.  It  has  given  me  new  courage,  and  by  searching, 
perhaps  you  may  find  one  leaf  among  my  ^A,uluntn 
TCeavcs  that  you  will  feel  was  painted  expressly  for 
you,  and  is  worthy  to  be  pressed  upon  the  tablet  of 
your  heart. 

ARDELIA  MARIA  BARTON 


174588 


TO  MY  MOTHER 

Who  ever  watched  with  loving  care 
My  childhood's  tender  years. 

She  ever  soothed  my  little  woes, 
And  kissed  away  my  tears. 

She  guided  me  o'er  Life's  rough  road, 
And  pointed  out  the  snares, 

And  pitfalls  that  are  e'er  in  life; 
And  all  the  many  tares, 

And  brambles  that  beset  Life's  paths, 

And  if  I  fell  by  way, 
She  helped  me  up  with  loving  hands, 

And  tender  words  alway. 


(Lenient* 

Page 

Autumn  Leaves 

Write  2 

Dreamland  6 

What  Will  The  Harvest  Be?    -  8 

We  Know  What  The  Harvest  Will  Be  10 

Meridian  12 

The  Indian  Lover's  Plea    -  14 

Winona's  Reply  16 

At  Last  18 

The  Awakening  Of  The  Lillies  20 

Conquered  25 

The  Water  Spirit  26 

The  World  Is  Asleep  29 

What  Is  The  Future  Of  The  Race?    -  30 

Love's  Path  33 

A  Prayer  34 

Life's  Road  37 

Where  Is  Heaven?  38 

Destiny       -  40 

Why?  43 

Liberty        -  44 

My  Soul  and  I  46 

Forsaken     -  48 
Farewell                                                                               -         51 

Tne  Pebble's  Soliloquy       -  52 
An  Angel's  Message                                                         -         54 

The  Race  Of  Life  With  Time       -  56 

"O  Death  Where  Is  Thy  Sting?"      -  59 

The  Mother's  Plea  60 

ix 


Contents 

Page 

To  A  Friend    -  -         63 

Time  Waits  For  No  Man  64 

Tide  Waits  For  No  Man  •         66 

Freedom      -  -                              68 

Reverie  71 
A  Mohammedan's  Prayer 

Nature's  Plan    -  74 

The  Sunbeam's  Wooing    -  76 

The  Progression  of  The  Rose  -         78 

All  Life  Hath  Soul  80 

It  Matters  Not  -         82 

"What  Is  Man  That  Thou  Art  Mindful  of  Him?"            84 

As  a  Man  Thinketh  So  Is  He  -         86 

My  Guests  88 

God  Is  Everywhere       -  -         90 

Dead  Hopes  92 

Buried  Hopes    -  -         93 

Love's  Message       -  95 

A  Fable  •         96 

Deplore  Not  The  Shadows  of  Life  99 

Love's  Garland  -       100 

Let  Us  Build  Above  The  Stars  -                                        103 

Ghosts  Of  The  Attic  -       104 

Not  Yet  107 

Duty  108 

Life's  Plans  111 

Brotherhood  of  Man    -  -       112 

Man  Defying  The  Dying  Sun  -                                          114 

If  There  Is  No  Hereafter  118 

Love's  Song  120 


Contents 

Page 

Forgive                                                        -             -  -       122 

Forget  123 

Yesterday                                                                  -  -       124 

Tomorrow                                                         -  -               125 

Consolation        -                           -             -             -  -       126 

The  Dead  Summer  -              127 

There  Is  A  Rift  In  The  Clouds  -       128 

To  A  Comet  130 

Love's  Dart  _       131 

Weeds         -  132 

The  Blind  Beggar's  Appeal  -       134 

The  Threads  of  Life  136 

Memory's  Book  _       138 

Do  Not  Borrow  Trouble   -  140 

Give  Smiles,  Not  Tears  -        H2 

Farewell  To  The  Dying  Year  144 

The  Book  Of  Gifts  _       145 

Unkind  Words        -  147 

Seek  For  The  Good  In  Life    -  -       148 

Love's  Crown                                                   -  150 

My  Soul's  Desire  and  Destiny  -       152 

Incarnation                                                           _  _               155 

Reincarnation    -  -       156 

Life's  Burdens         -                                         -  -              159 

To  Mount  Sierra                                                    _  -       160 

Oft  Poisoned  Is  The  Wine  Of  Life            -  -              162 

The  Game  of  Life        -             -             -             -  -       164 

"  The  Old,  Old  Story  "     -  166 

The  Ghost  of  Love      -                          -  168 

I  Shall  Sing  It  Sometime    -  -              170 

xi 


Contents 

Page 

When  I  Am  Dead 

'Tis  Folly  To  Be  Wise 

The  Old  Oak's  Reverie 

Ingratitude 

Judge  Not 

Our  Virtues  Are  Carved  Upon  O   <•  Tombstones 

Honor,  Fame,  or  Love  186 

1  00 

Courage       - 

1  QO 

Persevere 

Speak  But  Kind  Words 

Vagary 

The  Home  Beautiful 

The  Beatitudes 

Bury  The  Past 

To  A  Friend  On  Her  Birthday 

Have  Ideals 

Selfishness 

Life  Is  Nothing  Without  Love 

The  Century  Flower    - 

Life's  Music 

Love's  Garden 

The  Last  Port 

Can'st  Tell  Me 

The  Soul  Seeking  For  Perfection  - 

Life's  Thoughtlessness 

The  Flower's  Prayer  For  Immortality 

Love's  Offering 

Love's  Acceptance 

Autumn  Leaves 

Finale  231 

xii 


AUTUMN  LEAVES. 

The  autumn  leaves  are  like  our  lives, 
They  serve  their  purpose  for  a  day, 

They  then  return  to  mother  Earth : 
They  come  but  to  decay. 

The  trees  are  gaunt,  gaunt  sentinels, 
Deprived  of  their  warm  dress. 

They  shiver  in  their  nakedness, 
And  moan  in  their  distress. 

But,  as  with  us,  they  live  again, 

Again  have  garments  fresh  and  new, 

And  though  they  seem  to  die  to  earth, 
Again  their  lives  renew. 

Again  the  joy  of  living  comes, 

And  brighter  now  is  their  new  life; 

They  had  a  season  of  sweet  sleep, 
And  rest  from  worldly  strife. 


WRITE. 

Republished  by  special  request. 

Take  thy  pen  and  write,  O  man ! 

Chronicle  thy  every  thought; 
Hath  thy  life  been  full  of  joy? 

Hath  this  world  all  pleasure  wrought? 

If,  before  thou  cam'st  to  earth, 
Knowing  what  thou  knowest  now, 

Free  to  choose  to  be,  or  not, 

To  life's  problems  wouldst  thou  bow? 

Wouldst  thou  think  thy  life  a  boon? 

It  with  thankfulness  accept, 
Or  wouldst  say  O  Lord,  me  spare ! 

/  must  weep,  for  man  hath  wept. 

Dost  thou  think  that  life  is  sweet? 

Dost  thou  think  its  joys  are  more 
Than  its  griefs  and  misery? 

Hath  thy  bark  ne'er  touched  bleak  shore. 


Stranded  hath  it  never  been? 

Thy  sweet  hopes  forever  lost, 
Wrecked  thy  bark  on  shoals  by  storm, 

On  rough  sea  of  life  been  tossed? 

Is  the  wind  and  tide  with  thee? 

And  is  life  without  a  tear? 
Manned  is  bark  with  happiness? 

Hath  thy  sky  been  ever  clear? 

Dost  thou  bless  thy  natal  day? 

Long'st  thou  not  for  day  of  death? 
Art  thou  willing  to  live  on 

Blessing  God  that  thou  hast  breath? 

Then,  to  thee,  is  life  a  joy, 

Blessed  heritage  of  peace 
Was  bequeathed  to  thee  by  Love, 

God  gave  unto  thee  the  lease. 


I  will  write  in  book  of  life, 

Trace  my  thoughts    with  fadeless  ink, 
With  a  pen  of  gold  will  write; 

Into  hearts  my  words  may  sink. 

Born  to  earth  I  wished  it  not, 
Earth  conditions  knew  not  I, 

E'en  though  filled  with  misery; 
I  will  never  question  why. 

I  am  here;  will  do  my  work, 
Even  though  life  stranded  be, 

E'en  though  storms  beset  my  way, 
Wrecked  my  ship  on  life's  rough  sea. 

Sunshine,  aye,  I  look  not  for, 
Wind  and  tide  are  often  wrong 

For  my  ship  to  leave  its  port; 
Sad,  yea  mournful,  is  life's  song. 

But  I  love,  and  I  am  loved, 

Hope  is  strong  within  my  heart, 

Courage,  too,  I'll  stem  life's  tide, 
In  the  world  do  wTell  my  part. 


Tears  are  shed.      Then  why  should  I 
E'er  from  care  and  grief  be  free? 

I  must  live,  though  oft  I  weep, 
Do  my  work,  what  e'er  it  be. 

Born  of  Love  —  O  blessed  thought! 

Earth  conditions  I  can  bear; 
God  is  Love,  in  Him  I  live, 

Utter  plaint  I  will  not  dare. 

I  will  sail  my  ship  of  life, 

Steer  it  over  shoals  and  rocks, 

Bring  it  safely  into  port, 

It  will  bear  all  storms  and  shocks. 

When,  at  last,  Life's  dream  is  o'er, 
Time  —  true  censor  —  takes  his  flight, 

Death,  as  Captain  of  my  fleet, 
Injiis  Log  my  life  will  write. 


DREAMLAND. 

In  our  dreamland  we  are  soaring 
'  Mong  the  stars,  above  the  clouds, 

Naught  seems  strange,  our  dress  js  moonlight; 
Not  one  grief  our  heart  enshrouds. 

In  this  dreamland  not  one  sorrow. 

All  the  world  is  filled  with  joy. 
There  is  naught  but  sweet  contentment, 

All  is  peace  with  no  alloy. 

'  Mong  the  clouds  we  e'  er  are  soaring, 

All  the  heavens  we  control. 
Stars,  and  planets,  *are  our  footstools 

In  the  dreamland  of  the  soul. 

Butterflies  are  our  companions, 

Singing  birds  make  love  for  aye. 
Chariots  are^drawnjby  fire-flies; 

And  'tis  sunshine  every  day. 


When  we  wake,  our  dreams  all  vanish. 

We  are  in  the  work-day  world. 
We  are  simply  common  mortals; 

From  the  uplands  we  are  hurled. 

Vanished  now  is  shadowy  dreamland; 

Most  prosaic  is  the  dawn. 
Chariots  are  common  waggons, 

Not  by  fireflies  are  they  drawn. 

There  are  clouds,  and  rain  is  falling. 

Trouble  meets  us  everywhere. 
We  must  battle  with  conditions; 

Many  griefs  we  now  must  bear. 

But  we  dream,  e'en  though  not  sleeping, 

Nothing  ever  us  debars, 
Nothing  seems  to  us  unreal, 

Though  we  soar  above  the  stars. 


WHAT  WILL  THE  HARVEST  BE? 

We  are  sowing,  we  are  reaping, 
We  are  laughing,  we  are  weeping 
For  the  seeds  we  sow. 

We  are  giving,  we  are  hoarding, 
Are  withholding  or  dispersing 
Broadcast  o'er  the  land. 

Are  they  thorns,  or  are  they  roses? 
Are  they  weeds,  or  are  they  posies? 
That  we  cull  from  life? 

What  confronts  us  at  Life's  evening? 
What  will  greet  us  on  awaking? 
Will  it  be  Love's  flowers? 

O  the  joy  of  loving,  living, 
If  to  others  we  are  giving 
Out  of  our  heart's  store. 


Let  us  do  what  is  before  us, 
Not  discouraged,  not  unhappy, 
If  some  good  we've  done. 

When  we  wake  in  the  hereafter, 
Is  it  tears,  or  is  it  laughter, 
That  will  meet  us  there? 

We  shall  sometimes  be  confronted, 
And  by  phantoms  shall  be  haunted  - 
Phantoms  of  our  past. 

Let  no  thought  of  dire  deception 
In  our  hearts  have  e'er  inception, 
Then  not  haunted  we 

By  the  ghosts  of  indiscretion, 
By  ill  deeds  and  degradation. — 
Let  us  all  beware 

Of  temptations  e'er  surrounding, 
And  of  evil  e'er  abounding. — 
We  must  shun  them  all. 


WE  KNOW  WHAT  THE  HARVEST 
WILL  BE. 

We  plant  a  bright  flower  for  the  butterfly; 

We  plant  a  sweet  flower  for  the  bee. 
We  feed  and  we  clothe  the  hungry  and  cold, 

"We  know  what  the  harvest  will  be." 

We  plant  a  good  thought  in  some  weary  heart, 
The  thought  that  we  plant  goes  to  seed; 

Increasing  in  strength  full  an  hundred  fold, 
The  thought  will  become  a  good  deed. 

A  deed  that  will  live  in  many  a  heart, 

Will  travel  forever,  and  on; 
Forgotten  will  never  be  words  nor  deeds; 

They  live  and  will  thrive  when  we're  gone. 

A  well  we  may  dig  in  a  desert  land, 

Some  traveler  stops  on  the  road, 
And  quenches  his  thirst  in  the  living  spring, 

And  lighter  will  now  seem  his  load. 


10 


We  may  plant  a  tree,  and  its  cooling  shade 
Will  shelter  some  traveler  worn, 

And  never  from  memory  will  it  fade, 
And  never  from  heart  can  be  torn. 

In  all  of  this  life,  'tis  the  little  things 
That  help  and  will  cheer  our  lone  way, 

A  sip  of  cold  water,  a  little  word, 
Will  many  a  sorrow  allay. 

And  if  in  our  hearts  no  envy  doth  reign, 
From  malice  we  ever  are  free, 

Have  nothing  but  love  for  even  a  foe; 
"We  know  what  the  harvest  will  be." 


11 


MERIDIAN. 

'Tis  twelve  o'clock  meridian.—. 

My  work  is  not  half  done. 
Turn  back  the  hands  upon  Life' s  clock, 

For  it  must  not  strike  one. 

'Tis  twelve  o'clock  meridian, 

Time  faster,  faster  goes. 
All  heedless  he  of  my  distress, 

Unheedful  of  my  woes. 

'Tis  twelve  o'clock  meridian, 

My  life  is  now  half  gone, 
'Tis  useless  to  begin  anew; 

Anew  life's  pages  con. 

'Tis  twelve  o'clock  meridian, 

Ambition  now  is  gone. 
I  cannot  take  up  stitches  dropped; 

My  work  cannot  go  on. 


12 


I'm  tired  and  weary,  will  now  rest, 

Let  time  go  on  his  way. 
Life's  race  is  almost  over  now, 

Time  will  not  for  me  stay. 

For  wasted  time  now  dead,  and  gone, 

A  requiem  sad,  time  tolls. 
All  squandered  hours,  all  work  undone, 

In  winding-sheet  he  rolls. 


THE  INDIAN  LOVER'S  PLEA. 

Winona!    Winona!    O  list  to  my  plea! 
O  why  wilt  thou  leave  me,  O  canst  thou  not  see 
How  barren  this  world  if  deprived  of  thy  love, 
'Twas  given  to  me  by  the  Great  Spirit  above. 

Winona!    Winona!    Return  unto  me  — 
From  bonds  of  the  white  man  O  cut  thyself  free. 
Thy  heart  is  still  mine,  but  the  glitter  of  gold 
Enticed  thee  away  from  thy  lover  of  old. 

The  white  man  will  weary  of  thee  in  a  day, 
Forsaken  thou' It  be,  dishonored  for  aye. 
Thy  beauty  will  fade,  alas !    for  thee  then ! 
Reviled,  and  dishonored,  forsaken  of  men. 

Forsaken,  degraded,  and  then  cast  aside; 
Dost  think  that  the  white  man  will  make  thee  his  bride  ? 
My  camp-fire  is  out,  and  my  wigwam  is  cold, 
The  white  man  has  won  thee  by  the  promise  of  gold. 


14 


I  feel  that  I've  loved  thee  in  ages  long  gone, 
Have  fought  for  thy  smiles,  have  always  them  won, 
Winona  dear  heart,  I  will  fight  for  them  still, 
Though  broken  thy  troth,  unbroken  my  will. 

My  arrows  are  broken,  my  bow  is  unstrung, 
My  powder-horn  empty,  on  high  it  is  hung. 
Come  back  to  the  forest  where  we've  wandered 

alone; 
Come  back  to  my  wigwam,  and  I  will  condone 

The  sin  of  thy  leaving,  for  thou  didst  not  know 
The  wiles   that  the  white  man  around  thee  couldst 

throw. 

The  white  man  will  tire  of  thy  beauty  so  rare, 
His  plaything  thou' It  be,  O  Winona  beware! 

Return  to  thy  lover  before  'tis  too  late  — 
The  love  of  an  Indian  is  as  strong  as  his  hate. 
Winona!    Winona!    this  is  my  last  plea! 
Return  unto  me!    O  return  unto  me! 


15 


WINONA'S  REPLY. 

Oswega!    Oswega!    I'll  listen  to  thee  — 
Return  to  thee  gladly,  again  will  be  free. 
'Tis  true,  for  a  moment,  the  glitter  of  gold 
Enticed  my  vain  heart  from  my  lover  of  old. 

The  white  man  so  subtile  flattered  my  pride  — 
He  promised  me  honor  for  aye  by  his  side. 
I  loved  him  not  ever,  'twas  only  my  pride 
That  caused  me  to  waver,  and  leave  thy  dear  side 

I  beg  dear  Oswega  that  thou  wilt  forgive, 
And  that  in  thy  love-light  again  I  shall  live. 
Yes,  I  will  return  to  my  lover  so  brave, 
For  home  without  love  is  as  cold  as  the  grave. 

Yes,  now  dear  Oswega  I'll  come  back  to  thee; 
Though  false  I  have  seemed,  I  am  true  unto  thee. 
I  will  care  for  thy  wigwam,  will  keep  up  thy  fire, 
Of  thee  my  Oswega  ne'er  more  will  I  tire. 


16 


I  love  thee  Oswega,  will  love  thee  for  aye  — 
'Twas  but  for  a  time  that  my  heart  went  astray. 
I'll  come  to  thy  wigwam,  will  care  for  thy  home, 
And  never  again  from  my  lover  will  roam. 

Oswega!    Oswega!    my  heart  is  as  true 
As  thine  is  for  me,  and  I  bitterly  rue 
That  vanity  caused  my  heart  to  grow  cold, 
By  flattering  words  and  the  glamour  of  gold. 

The  dream  is  now  o'er,  it  was  but  for  a  day. 
My  vain  heart  was  flattered,  I  could  not  say  nay. 
My  beauty  may  fade,  but  I  know  that  thy  heart 
Will  ever  be  mine,  and  ne'er  more  shall  we  part. 


17 


AT  LAST. 

I  struggle  on  blindly; 
I  know  not  the  way, 
I  falter  by  wayside 
Forever  and  aye. 

I  seek  the  right  pathway, 
'Tis  hidden  in  gloom, 
'Tis  cold  as  the  grave,  and 
As  dark  as  the  tomb. 

So  deep  are  the  shadows 
I  see  not  the  road, 
My  burden  is  heavy 
I  sink  'neath  the  load. 

So  long  seems  the  journey; 
O  when  will  it  end? 
I'm  tired,  and  weary, 
'Neath  burdens  I  bend. 


18 


No  light  in  my  pathway, 
No  hope  in  my  soul. 
My  life  seems  a  failure, 
Far  distant  my  goal. 


I'll  rise  from  my  languor, 
And  hope  for  the  best. — 
Now,  clouds  are  dispelling, 
I'll  come  to  my  rest. 

Though  trials,  and  sorrows 
Have  e'er  been  my  lot, 
I'll  cast  them  aside  now, 
Life's  battles  are  fought. 

I've  gained  in  the  battles, 
All  clouds  will  now  break. 
When  journey  is  ended 
In  heaven  I'll  awake. 


19 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  LILIES. 

Beneath  the  placid  waters 

A  lily  bulb  had  birth ; 
It  slept  in  sweet  reliance 

In  arms  of  mother  earth. 

In  home  beneath  the  waters, 

It  slept  in  calm  repose; 
With  sweetness  of  the  lily, 

And  beauty  of  the  rose. 

One  morn  the  Sun  looked  downward, 
And  loving  words  he  spake. 

The  lily  bulb  awakened 

From  dreams,  beneath  the  lake. 

A  little  bud  shot  upward 
To  meet  the  sun-god' s  call, 

It  sent  forth  all  its  fragrance 
Its  lover  to  enthrall. 


20 


It  sprang  from  out  the  waters, 
And  donned  its  pure  white  gown 

No  sin  defiled  its  beauty, 
Its  virtue  was  its  crown. 

The  little  bud  then  blossomed, — 
So  fragrant,  pure  and  sweet, 

The  air  was  filled  with  fragrance, 
And  many  stopped  to  greet 

The  pure  white  lily  blossom 

That  on  the  water  lay; 
A  ruthless  hand  then  plucked  it, 

But  threw  it  soon  away. — 

It  faded,  and  then  withered; 

The  earth  was  not  its  home; 
It  missed  the  sparkling  water, 

Nor  wished  from  it  to  roam 


21 


Upon  life's  turbid  waters 
A  human  flower  was  born. 

As  pure  as  water-lily, 

With  beauty  of  the  dawn. 

'Twas  in  a  vine-clad  cottage 

Close  by  the  lily's  home; 
Where  dwelt  this  pure  young  maiden, 

Nor  wished  she  e'er  to  roam. 

To  her  there  came  a  lover  — 

But  soon  he  cast  aside 
The  crushed  and  faded  blossom 

Who  was  his  promised  bride. 


In  lone,  and  dreary  hovel 

A  weeping  woman  lay. 
No  loving  hand  to  tend  her, 

And  naught  but  shadows  gray. — 


22 


She  sinned  in  loving,  trusting, 
And  what  was  her  reward? 

Dishonored,  and  forsaken, 
No  friend  had  she  but  God. 

And  in  this  lonely  hovel 
A  little  child  was  born. — 

A  little  human  lily 

First  saw  the  light  of  dawn. 

Unheralded  its  coming, 
Unwelcome  was  its  birth. 

This  little  human  lily 

Was  born  from  out  the  earth. 

It  came  without  love's  greeting, 
Its  death  caused  not  one  tear; 

'Twas  born  into  conditions 
That  cost  its  mother  dear. — 


23 


This  child  was  pure  and  holy, 
Though  it  was  born  of  sin. — 

Its  heavenly  Father  loved  it, 
So  took  it  from  the  din 

Of  earthly  cares  and  sorrows. 

He  took  the  mother  too. 
The  child  is  with  her  sleeping, 

No  tears  their  grave  bedew. 

Together  in  one  coffin 

The  human  lilies  lie; 
Dishonored,  and  forsaken, 

They  blossomed  but  to  die. 

They  lie  upon  the  hillside. — 
Some  pitying  hand  now  gave 

A  pure,  white  lily  blossom, 
To  deck  the  outcasts'  grave. 


24 


CONQUERED. 

I  am  beaten  in  the  race  of  life, 

Will  acknowledge  my  defeat. 
As  I  struggle  on  the  uphill  road, 

Naught  but  failure  do  I  meet. 

I  have  fought  the  fight,  have  conquered  been 

At  every  stage  of  life. 
For  the  battle  is  not  for  the  weak; 

Not  fitted  they  for  strife. 

I  must  leave  the  battle  ground  of  life 

Where  I  have  found  but  woe. 
And  at  last  will  give  the  warfare  up, 

Lay  down  my  arms  to  foe. 

For   "the  race  of  life  is  for  the  swift," 

'  The  battle  for  the  strong. ' ' 
And  my  place  has  been  marked  out  for  me 
Among  the  defeated  throng. — 


25 


THE  WATER  SPIRIT. 

Beneath  the  wave  tossed  waters, 

Upon  the  ocean  bed; 
There  dwelt  a  water  spirit, 

To  sea-king  she  was  wed. 

Years  passed  in  happy  wedlock, 
And  pledges  to  them  came 

Of  love  beneath  the  ocean; 
For  love  is  e'er  the  same. 

They  lived  in  sweet  communion 
Among  their  sea-weed  flowers. 

'Twas  ever  peace  and  gladness 
Within  their  love-lit  bowers. 

One  little  spirit  wandering 

Away  from  childhood's  home- 

Came  into  unknown  waters, — 
Beneath  a  coral  dome, — 


26 


She  heard  a  spirit  teaching 
A  doctrine,  new  and  strange; 

She  listened  to  his  preaching, 
And  thought  took  wider  range. 

He  told  of  other  peoples 
Who  lived  above  the  sea. 

Of  birds  with  brilliant  plumage, 
Who  in  the  air  were  free. 

To  her  this  was  awakening 
From  out  a  long,  long  sleep. 

The  soul  was  stirred  within  her, 
To  flowers  of  thought  most  deep. 

Now  to  her  home  returning  — 

Dissension  there  arose; 
Her  former  friends  so  loving, 

Were  now  her  bitter  foes. 

They  cried  to  her   "  O  heretic!" 

You  are  forever  lost, 
Unless  you  pray  to  Neptune, 

And  not  by  doubts  be  tossed. 


27 


There  is  no  God  but  Neptune, 
There  is  no  world  but  ours, 

There  are  no  stars,  nor  planets, 
There  are  but  sea-weed  flowers. 

And  filled  with  consternation 
At  everything  she  said  — 

They  even  feared  pollution, 
And  from  her  they  all  fled. 


Now  e'en  above  the  ocean 
Some  bigot  there  may  be, 

Who  only  prays  to  Neptune, 
Who  dwells  beneath  the  sea. 

He  sees  no  beauty  ever, 
Except  in  his  own  flowers. 

And  if  from  him  you  differ, 
Contumely  on  you  showers. 


28 


THE  WORLD  IS  ASLEEP. 

Step  softly  for  the  world's  asleep 
And  when  it  wakes,  it  wakes  to  weep 
O'er  all  the  sins  and  dire  mistakes 
That  it  will  see  when  it  awakes. 

O'er  griefs  and  sorrows  of  the  race, 
Which  all  mankind  must  sometimes  face. 
O,  world  sleep  on,  'tis  better  so 
Than  to  awake  and  see  the  woe, 

And  burdens  that  mankind  must  bear; 
The  aching  hearts  aye  filled  with  care. 
In  sleep  you  dream,  and  dream  of  peace; 
From  turmoil  dire  you  have  surcease. 

Sleep  on !    Dream  on !    From  care  be  free 
Through  time,  and  through  eternity. 
There  is  no  rest,  'tis  toil  alway; 
'Tis  warfare,  death,  and  then  decay. 


29 


WHAT  IS  THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  RACE? 

What  is  the  future  of  the  race? 

I  asked  a  little  brook. 
It  laughingly  replied  to  me 
I  cannot  stop  to  look." 

Then  next  I  asked  a  gray  old  tree, 
It  shook  with  laughter  too. 
Go  ask  the  river,  it  may  give 
An  answer  unto  you." 

The  river  stopped  upon  its  course, 
And  unto  me  it  said, 
Go  ask  the  ocean,  it  is  wise 
And  I  shall  soon  him  wed. " 

The  ocean  seemed  with  anger  filled, 
But  unto  me  replied, 
I  have  no  time  for  foolish  speech, 
Do  not  delay  my  tide.  " 


30 


The  wind,  in  answer  to  my  plea 
A  moment  paused,  to  say, 
Go  ask  the  sphinx,  perhaps  she  knows, 
And  will  your  fears  allay. ' ' 

I  asked  the  sphinx,  she  seemed  to  smile, 

I  started  back  aghast; 
She  seemed  to  speak,  I  heard  these  words, 
I  only  know  the  past. " 

I  bowed  before  the  placid  stone, 
And  begged  to  know  the  past. 
The  present  is  enough  for  you, 
With  all  its  questions  vast. ' ' 

O  tell  me  of  the  past  I  beg! 

O  do  not  it  withhold 
Sometime  the  future  I  shall  know 

It  will  to  me  unfold. 


31 


*  *  O  man  why  seekest  thou  to  know 

The  future,  or  the  past? 
The  present  is  enough  for  you, 

If  not  with  clouds  o'er  cast. " 

The  mountains  seemed  to  pity  me, 
The  clouds  shed  showers  of  tears, 

The  sun  looked  down  in  reverence, 
And  said :  "  Allay  your  fears," 

"  For  there's  a  power  that  rules  mankind, 

E'er  has  and  ever  will. 
The  future,  and  the  past,  are  His, 

Are  governed  by  His  will. 

Then  gazing  at  the  works  of  God, 
My  thoughts  seemed  trivial,  small, — 

Why  should  I  worry  o'  er  the  race  ? 
When  God  is  over  all. 


32 


LOVE'S  PATH. 

Adown  the  many  walks  of  life, 
Though  stormy  be  the  weather, 
We  will  clasp  hands  in  confidence, 
And  walk  Love's  path  together. 

When  days  are  bright  we'll  happy  be, 
And  will  not  trouble  borrow; 
But  do  the  very  best  we  can 
For  clouds  may  come  tomorrow. 

Though  life  be  filled  with  many  cares, 
If  soul  with  soul  is  blending, 
We'll  bear  the  cares  most  cheerfully. 
Love  hath  with  us  no  ending. 

When  Death  shall  come,  as  come  he  must,- 
For  life  is  short,  and  fleeting, 
With  outstretched  hands  and  happy  smile, 
We'll  give  him  kindly  greeting. 


33 


A  PRAYER. 

O  Thou  Almighty  Presence  — 
O  Thou  Almighty  Power  — 

No  greater  in  the  heavens, 
Than  in  the  smallest  flower. 

We  bow  to  Thee  in  reverence, 
We  kneel  to  Thee  in  prayer. 

We  see  Thee  in  the  tiny  weed, 
We  see  Thee  everywhere. 

We  know  that  we  are  ignorant, 

And  oftimes  sinful  are, 
But  we  would  keep  thy  every  law, 

No  plan  of  Thine  e'er  mar. 

For  perfect  are  Thy  mandates  all, 
And  perfect  every  work, 

And  though  we  oft  misunderstand, 
We  would  no  duty  shirk. 


34 


Thou  pitiest  us,  Thy  children, 
Wouldst  teach  us  the  right  way 

Wherein  to  walk,  and  what  to  do, 
Wouldst  teach  us  to  obey 

The  law  which  Thou  hast  made  supreme, 

But  if  we  disobey, 
Thou  still  dost  plead  for  our  return 

To  straight  and  narrow  way. 

O  God  our  Lord  we  reverence  Thee! 

And  humble  aye  would  be. 
We  love  Thee  ever,  though  we  sin 

Throughout  eternity. 

We  know  Thou  art  the  only  Power 
Which  reigns  supreme  on  earth, 

And  though  we  many  trials  have, 
We  thank  Thee  for  our  birth. 


35 


We  thank  Thee  for  the  blessings  rich 

That  in  our  pathway  lie. 
We  thank  Thee  e'en  for  tears  we  shed, 

Thy  love  these  tears  will  dry. 

O  help  us  Lord  to  do  Thy  work, 

And  bury  self  so  deep, 
That  we  shall  every  duty  do, 

And  have  no  cause  to  weep. 

And  when  we  come  into  the  home 

That  is  prepared  for  us, 
We'll  fitted  be  to  dwell  within 

That  home  so  glorious. 


36 


LIFE'S  ROAD. 

O  the  road  seems  long  and  devious 
That  our  weary  feet  have  trod, 

Struggling,  struggling,  ever  struggling, 
Till  we  rest  beneath  the  sod. 

Dark  and  hidden  is  life's  pathway, 
We  have  sought  for  it  in  vain; 

But  have  fallen  by  the  wayside, 
Overcome  by  grief  and  pain. 

And  our  feet  are  bruised  and  bleeding, 
And  life's  burdens  are  so  great 

That  we  fain  would  give  up  trying, 
And  be  governed  aye  by  fate. 

All  life's  road  seems  filled  with  shadows, 

In  despair  we  kiss  the  rod; 
Then  we  see  that  road  leads  upward 

From  the  depths,  e'en  up  to  God. 


37 


WHERE  IS  HEAVEN? 

O  where  is  heaven?   cried  a  child. 

Is  it  above,  beyond  the  sky? 
Is  it  above,  beyond  the  clouds? 

How  shall  I  find  it  when  I  die? 

0  where  is  heaven?   cried  a  youth. 
It  seems  so  far,  so  far  away. 

This  world  is  such  a  weary  waste 
Eor  Heaven's  peace  I  ever  pray. 

1  long  to  know  where  heaven  is, 

Is  it  the  place  where  angels  dwell? 
Is  it  the  place  where  spirits  go? 
Can  mortal  man  the  place  foretell. 

I've  searched  in  vain  the  place  to  find  — 
I've  sought,  I've  searched  for  heaven's  door, 

I  cannot  find  one  trace  of  it 

In  modern  book,  nor  ancient  lore. 


38 


We're  told  that  heaven  is  but  for  those 
Who  live  a  life  all  free  from  sin. 

If  this  is  true,  there  is  no  hope  — 
No  one  will  ever  heaven  win. 

O  where  is  heaven?   an  old  man  cried. 

Is  it  above  the  world's  fierce  din? 
''A  still  small  voice"    then  spake  to  him 

To  find  your  heaven,  O  look  within. 


DESTINY. 

When  Destiny  leads  us 

We  have  to  obey. 
No  rest  by  the  roadside ; 

No  loitering  by  way. 

She  beckons  us  onward 
With  promise  of  peace; 

Alluring  us  ever, 

From  bonds  no  release. 

We  struggle  on  blindly; 

Obeying  her  call. 
A  shroud  doth  us  cover, 

'Tis  Destiny's  pall. 

The  chains  that  aye  bind  us 
Too  strong  are  to  break; 

The  fetters,  and  shackles 
Are  Destiny's  make. 


40 


So  strong  are  these  fetters 
They  bind  us  to  earth. 

Grim  Destiny  welded  them 
E'en  before  birth. 

We  rise  from  our  bondage, 
And  try  to  be  free; 

But  Fate  is  our  gaoler, 
She  holds  fast  the  key. 

The  prison  is  guarded, 
No  opening  we  see, 

'Tis  useless  to  struggle, 
For  helpless  are  we. 

Yea,  Destiny  rules  us; 

A  tyrant  is  she 
Who  keeps  us  in  bondage, 

When  we  would  be  free. 


41 


The  warfare  is  ended. 

Our  colors  are  down. 
We  bow  in  submission, 

And  Destiny  crown. 

She  now  is  our  monarch, 
On  her  we  must  lean, 

Obeying  her  ever, 
For  she  is  our  queen. 


42 


WHY? 

Why  should  not  we  all  understand 
The  laws  of  life,  of  living? 

That  everything  in  Nature's  works 
Is  sending  forth,  and  giving. 

She  gives  her  life  to  help  mankind, 
She  to  the  world  gives  beauty, 

And  it  is  given  ungrudgingly, 
And  not  because  'tis  duty. 

O  let  us  try  to  emulate 

Dear  Nature  in  her  giving, 

Instead  of  thorns,  give  roses  sweet; 
Then  life  will  be  worth  living. 

Send  loving  thoughts  out  to  the  world, 
Your  cup  returns  o'erflowing; 

You'll  find  it  holds  no  bitter  dregs 
If  good  you  are  bestowing. 


43 


LIBERTY. 

A  little  dove  impatient  grew, 

And  weary  of  his  bars. 
He  longed  to  break  his  prison  bonds, 
And  soar  among  the  stars. 

He  beat  his  wings  against  the  bars, 

And  vainly  tried  to  break 
The  door  of  his  small  prison  house. 
That  freedom  he  might  take. 

For  liberty  he  ever  sought, 

He  did  not  love  his  home. 
He  ever  wished  that  he  was  free 
Around  the  world  to  roam. 

The  little  dove  most  weary  was; 

Unhappy  and  distraught. 
O  why  should  he  a  prisoner  be? 

¥or  liberty  he  fought. 


44 


But  all  in  vain,  he  could  not  break 
The  bars  that  held  him  fast. 

The  future  seemed  as  dark  to  him 
As  had  been  all  his  past. 

At  last  with  broken,  bleeding  wings, 
He  fell  to  earth  in  death. 

For  freedom  sweet,  for  liberty, 
He  cried  with  his  last  breath. 


45 


MY  SOUL  AND  1. 

My  soul  and  I  a  warfare  waged, 
Which  had  the  right  of  way? 

Precedence  was  a  law  laid  down, 
Which  one  should  it  obey. 

I  claimed  that  /  was  first  on  earth, 

My  soul  put  in  the  plea 
That  /  was  but  the  home  for  him; 

He  claimed  eternity. 

We  argued  long,  and  earnestly, 

But  argued  all  in  vain. 
Each  one  was  sure  that  he  was  right, 

No  point  did  either  gain. 

So  worn  was  I  with  argument 
I  closed  my  eyes  to  earth. 

How  long  I  slept  I  do  not  know. 
1  wTakened  to  new  birth. 


46 


I  looked  around  for  my  lost  soul  — 

Had  it  the  victory  won  ? 
I  looked  within,  and  then  I  found 

My  soul  and  I  were  one. 

Were  one  on  earth,  are  one  in  heav'n, 

The  body  is  not  /, 
'Tis  but  the  garment  of  the  soul, 

And  in  the  grave  must  lie. 

But  soul  lives  on,  forever  on, 

'Tis  even  one  with  God; 
It  permeates  all  life,  all  space, 

Arising  from  its  clod 

A  spirit  of  the  universe, — 

A  light  which  never  dies. 
For  soul  is  all  creation, 

And  in  the  grave  ne'er  lies. 


47 


FORSAKEN. 

They  say  that  thou  art  false  to  me. 

It  is  not  true,  it  cannot  be. 

I  loved  thee  once,  I  love  thee  yet; 

0  dearest!    canst  thou  me  forget? 

1  loved  thee  e'en  when  first  we  met, 
And  even  now  do  not  regret 

The  love  for  thee  that  fills  my  heart. 
Wilt  thou  O  dearest  from  me  part? 

O  hath  another  won  thy  heart? 
Must  I  alone  endure  the  smart 
That  cometh  from  thy  broken  vow? 
If  I  must  suffer,  so  must  thou. 

The  past  is  dead,  and  buried  deep, 
For  thee  my  love  I  can  but  weep. 
Though  sad  the  day  that  first  we  met, 
That  past,  for  me,  holds  no  regret. 


48 


E'en  though  thou  lov'st  another  now, 
Again  thou' It  break  thy  troth,  thy  vow. 
Thy  fickle  heart  e'er  fickle  be 
Through  time,  and  through  eternity. 

Thou  seemest  not  so  happy  now, 
As  when  to  me  thou  mad'st  thy  vow 
That  sometime  thou  wouldst  be  my  bride, 
And  thy  dear  self  to  me  confide. 

The  memory  of  that  past  is  dear, 
Though  lying  on  sad  memory's  bier. 
And  now  farewell,    "I  love  thee  still, 
Against  my  wish,  against  my  will.  " 

The  future  holds  no  joy  for  me 
If  I  am  parted  dear  from  thee. 
Farewell!    Farewell!    I  give  thee  up. 
The  dregs  of  life  I  now  must  sup. 


49 


But  loving  thee,  I  can  forgive. 
Without  thy  love,  I  cannot  live. 
Alone,  forsaken,  and  bereft, 
There's  naught  on  earth  for  me  now  left. 

Farewell !    farewell !    our  past  is  dead, 
All  happiness  from  me  hath  fled. 
The  dreary  future  must  be  met; 
I  find  that  I  can  not  forget. 

I  think  that  thou  wilt  love  me  dear, 
When  I  am  dead,  and  o'er  my  bier 
Thou  bendest  down  to  look  at  me. 
My  heart  will  then  from  grief  be  free. 


50 


FAREWELL. 

My  lover  of  the  past,  farewell ! 

I  do  not  thee  regret; 
For  thou  hast  proven  false  to  me, 

And  I  will  thee  forget. 

I  would  not  turn  the  wheel  of  time, 
Thy  recreant  love  to  gain; 

For  having  once  been  false  to  me, 
Thou  wouldst  be  false  again. 

My  love  a  plaything  was  to  thee, 

'Twas  only  for  a  day; 
When  weary  of  the  love  I  gave, 

'  Twas  cast  by  thee  away. 

My  lover  of  the  past,  farewell! 

I  grieve  not  for  thee  now. 
When  trust  is  gone,  love  follows  soon 

Upon  a  broken  vow. 


51 


THE  PP:BBLFS  SOLILOQUY. 

Though  but  a  pebble  on  the  shore  of  time, 
I  feel  my  mission  is  sublime. 
Though  man  may  tread  me  '  neath  his  careless  feet 
With  scornful  look  will  e'er  me  greet  — 

I  have  my  place,  no  one  that  place  can  fill; 
I  live,  and  do  my  Master's  will. 
There  is  a  power  that  lies  within  my  heart  — 
I  must  live  on,  and  do  my  part. 

I  am  a  part  of  God  —  His  loving  thought, 
And  for  some  purpose  I  was  wrought. 
Naught  else  on  earth  could  fill  the  pebble's  place. 
To  mountains  grand  my  life  I  trace. 

I  will  arise  above  my  low  estate, 
And  with  the  angels  even  mate. 
I  feel,  I  know,  a  pebble  hath  a  soul, 
And  heaven  is  its  right,  its  goal. 

God  put  me  here,  so  why  should  I  complain? 
I  know  I  was  not  made  in  vain. 
To  you  the  song  of  ages  I  can  sing. 
Sweet  flowers,  in  time,  will  from  me  spring. 


52 


And  what  is  man?     A  pebble  on  Life's  strand 
With  me,  God  holds  him  in  His  hand. 
And  e'en  from  me  deep  lessons  he  can  learn. 
To  dust  his  body  will  return. 

'Tis  true  he  claims  a  soul,  and  so  do  I; 
For  soul  is  God,  and  God  doth  in  me  lie. 
All  that  hath  life,  hath  soul  I  do  avow. 
With  love,  all  things  God  doth  endow. 

I  have  ambition,  and  some  day  will  rise 
To  meet  my  God  beyond  the  skies. 
For  everything  on  earth,  or  in  the  sea 
Hath  part  in  God,  and  immortality. 


NOTE. 

From  the  criticism  of  a  friend,  I  am  led  to  explain  my 
self  in  regard  to  this  poem  (The  Pebble)  and  some  others. 
What  is  soul?  That  which  lives  forever  — Well,  a  pebble 
disintegrates,  and  vegetation  springs  up  from  it.  Vegetation 
supports  the  lower  forms  of  life,  which  in  turn  support  the 
higher,  from  atom  up  ho  God.  Life  is  not  matter,  though 
in  all  matter—  Life,  Soul,  goes  on  through  all  eternity.  God 
is  in  everything  that  he  has  created;  therefore,  everything 
has  soul. 


53 


AN  ANGEL'S  MESSAGE. 

"Make  merry,"  cried  the  king,    "  drive  care  away. 

I  would  not  think  of  crown  nor  nation  now. 
The  gayest  of  the  gay  I  fain  would  be, 

I  would  that  none  today  before  me  bow." 

'  Today  I  would  as  humblest  subject  be, 

And  I  would  even  know  the  want  of  food. 
A  vision  was  vouchsafed  to  me  this  morn, 
Methinks  an  angel  by  my  bedside  stood." 

"  And  one  by  one  he  placed  before  mine  eyes 
My  subjects  poor,  who  live  in  direst  need, 

Whilst  I,  in  thoughtless  rioting  have  dwelt. 
And  not  of  them  have  ever  taken  heed.' ' 

"  Make  haste  and  send  swift  couriers  o'er  the  land, 
Through  every  hamlet,  and  through  every  town. 

Henceforth  my  scepter  shall  be  love  to  all, 
And  justice  evermore  shall  be  my  crown." 


54 


Instead  of  pomp  and  pageantry,  1  will 
Hereafter  seek  to  know  my  subjects  all ; 
Henceforth  I'll  be  a  king  in  very  sooth, 

And  none  need  fear  upon  their  king  to  call." 

A  monarch  I  will  be  of  stricken  hearts; 

Loud  hallelujahs  through  my  kingdom  ring, 
For  nevermore  shall  Hunger  stalk  abroad, 

A  dark,  dark  blot  upon  the  title,  King." 

Swift  justice  shall  be  meted  out  to  all; 
Mine  eyes  are  opened  now.  —  I  have  been  blind 
To  all  the  misery  that  around  me  lay, 

All  heedless  of  the  sufferings  of  mankind." 

"So,  merry  be,  for  I  have  found  my  soul, 

And  Love  is  now  the  watchword  of  your  king. 
Rejoice,  and  be  exceeding  glad,  henceforth. 
Glad  tidings  now  to  all  my  people  bring." 


55 


THE  RACE  OF  LIFE  WITH  TIME. 

Life  and  Time  once  ran  a  race 
O'er  hills  of  sorrow  and  despair. 

Life  often  halted  by  the  way 
For  he  had  many  ills  to  bear, 

But  Time  went  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Poor  Life  oft  weary  was,  and  worn. 

Oft  fell  at  Time's  unflagging  feet. 
But  rose  again  with  strength  renewed, 

And  valiantly  old  Time  did  greet. 
Who  still  went  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Though  Life  oft  blinded  was  by  tears, 
Discouraged  he  could  never  be. — 

While  Time  rushed  on  to  win  the  race; 
Life' s  work  was  for  eternity. 

Yet  Time  still  onward  went  his  way. 

Life  cried,  O  tarry,  father  Time ! 

One  moment  stop  in  thy  mad  race; 
There  is  so  much  that  I  must  do, 

So  many  problems  yet  to  face. 
Time  took  no  heed,  but  still  rushed  on. 


56 


Life  often  staggered  'neath  his  load, 
And  ever  begged  that  Time  would  stay. 

But  Time,  with  scorn  upon  his  brow 
Rushed  faster,  faster  on  his  way. 

Went  madly  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Time  had  precedence  in  the  race, 

And  to  Life's  pleadings  paid  no  heed. 

He  cared  not  for  Life's  weariness, 

Nor  would  one  point  to  him  concede. 

But  still  went  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

O  Time!    cried  Life,  one  moment  pause! 

O  stay  one  moment  in  your  flight, 
For  I  am  weak,  the  road  is  rough; 

Too  soon,  too  soon  comes  death' s  dark  night. 
Still  Time  went  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

Time  went  his  way,  nor  heeded  he 

That  Life  was  weary,  worn,  distressed. 

Life's  burdens  all  too  heavy  were; 
At  every  dawn  Time  was  refreshed, 

With  courage  new  went  on  his  way. 


57 


But  Life  still  struggled  bravely  on, 
With  patience  bore  his  heavy  load, 

And  though  he  often  fell  by  way 
Upon  the  weary  upward  road, 

Time  took  no  heed,  but  still  went  on. 

Life  begged,  implored  that  Time  would  halt, 
But  Time  ne'er  tarried  on  Life's  way; 

But  when  Life  wept,  with  pitying  hand 
Time  stopped  to  wipe  the  tears  away, 

And  then  went  on,  and  on,  and  on. 

At  last  Time  seemed  to  fall  behind  — 
Then  Life  with  joy  increased  his  pace. 

Time  laughed  with  almost  fiendish  glee, 
He  knew  that  Life  would  lose  the  race, 

While  he  would  still  go  on,  and  on. 

Poor  Life  gave  up  the  fight  at  last, 
He  laid  his  burdens  down  and  died. 

But  still  with  agonizing  voice 

With  his  last  breath  to  Time  he  cried. 

Time  took  no  heed,  but  still  went  on. 


58 


O  DEATH  WHERE  IS  THY  STING? 

The  world  will  still  go  on  its  course 
When  we  have  passed  away. 

Not  e'en  one  ripple  on  Life's  waves 
There'll  be  for  e'en  one  day. 

How  vain  and  fleeting  is  all  life, 

'Tis  but  a  little  breath. 
'Tis  but  a  smile,  and  then  a  tear, 

And  then  to  us  comes  death. 

We  have  high  hopes  at  life's  bright  morn, 

Alas!    they  fade  by  noon. 
They  fade,  they  wither,  fall  to  earth, 

And  death  is  then  a  boon. 

Yet  over  all  our  dead,  dead  hopes, 

We  joyfully  will  sing: 
"  O  Grave  where  is  thy  victory? 

O  Death  where  is  thy  sting. " 


59 


THE  MOTHER'S  PLEA. 

It  is  my  little  baby, 

Now  lying  fast  asleep. 

Her  brow  with  wrinkles  furrowed. 

O  angels  guard  and  keep 

My  precious,  precious  baby. — 

Eor  her  I'd  gladly  die 

To  save  her  life  from  sorrow, — 

For  grief  is  ever  nigh. 


Now  ope  thine  eyes  my  baby, 
And  gaze  thou  into  mine. 
If  thou  dost  love  me  darling, 
Thine  arms  around  me  twine. 
I  loved  thee  O  my  baby 
Before  thou  camst  to  earth. 
I  longed  for  thy  dear  coming, 
I  longed  for  baby's  birth. 


60 


Thou  vvert  a  gift  from  heaven, 
And  selfishly  I  cling 
To  thee  my  precious  baby. 
No  sorrow  dost  thou  bring. 
Dost  know  that  'tis  thy  mother 
That's  speaking  to  thee  now? 
If  so,  the  little  wrinkles 
Will  vanish  from  thy  brow. 

Look  up  to  me  my  baby, 
And  put  thy  hands  in  mine. 
Dost  thou  not  know,  my  precious! 
That  for  thy  love  I  pine  ? 
Was't  kind  in  me,  thy  mother 
To  give  to  thee  earth-life? 
With  all  of  its  wild  turmoil, 
And  all  of  its  fierce  strife. 


61 


If  life  shouldst  be  a  burden, 
No  joy  in  it  for  thee, 
Will  future  life  repay  thee? 
And  I  forgiven  be? 
Will  heaven  be  compensation 
For  all  of  earthly  care? 
Wilt  thou  forgive  thy  mother 
For  all  that  thou  must  bear? 

In  vain  is  all  my  pleading  — 
Alas!    it  is  too  late, — 
For  thou  must  bear  life's  burdens, 
And  thou  must  meet  thy  fate. — 
But,  angels  guard,  and  keep  thee, 
This  is  thy  mother's  prayer. 
At  last  to  heaven  take  thee; 
To  meet  thy  mother  there. 


62 


TO  A  FRIEND. 

O  thou  fair  daughter  of  a  northern  clime! 
To  thee,  dear  heart,  I  dedicate  my  rhyme. 
Dost  know  that  life  to  thee  shouldst  be  sublime? 

Though  thou  hast  many  problems  yet  to  face, 
Thou  wilt  not  fall,  nor  falter  in  the  race. 
Nor  e'en  the  smallest  thing  in  life  debase. 

New  England' '  blood  is  coursing  through  my  veins, 
No  evil  deed,  nor  thought,  thy  pure  heart  stains. 
Thy  life  is  melody, —  not  sad  refrains. — 

In  brightest  life,  some  shadows  there  will  be. 

If  thou  dost  bear  these  shadows  cheerfully, 

The  clouds  will  break,  and  sunshine  come  to  thee. 

Not  having  burdens  of  thine  own  to  bear, 
Thou  must  be  willing  others'  griefs  to  share, 
There  are  enough  for  all,  and  some  to  spare. 
If  this  thou  doest  uncomplainingly 
Thou  wilt  be  blest  throughout  eternity. 


TIME  WAITS  FOR  NO  MAN. 

O  father  Time  one  moment  tarry! 

I  have  so  much,  so  much  to  do, 
And  death  will  find  my  work  unfinished, 

P'or  every  day  brings  something  new. 
O  Time,  dear  Time,  what  doth  it  matter? 

A  month,  a  year,  is  naught  to  thee, 
But  hours,  minutes,  even  seconds, 

To  me  doth  make  eternity. 

Much  time  I  feel  that  I  have  squandered; 

So  many  hours,  so  many  years. — 
The  misspent  time  that  now  confronts  me 

Will  ever  cause  me  bitter  tears. 
Life  is  so  sweet  when  breaks  the  morning, 

But  groweth  bitter  by  the  noon ; 
By  night  I  am  so  worn  and  weary, 

E'en  death  doth  seem  to  me  a  boon. 


64 


O  Time  give  back  my  happy  childhood, 

And  I  will  bless  thee  ever,  aye; 
My  every  task  with  joy  performing; 

And  not  from  duty  will  I  stray. 
E'en  Time  seemed  filled  with  deepest  pity, 

But  cried,    "  O  man,  it  is  too  late 
To  save  the  years  that  thou  hast  squandered ; 

So  I  must  leave  thee  to  thy  fate. ' ' 

"  Farewell  O  man!    I  must  not  tarry; 

Long  years  ago  my  work  began. 
In  vain,  in  vain  is  all  thy  pleading 

For  Time  and  Tide  wait  not  for  man. ' ' 
Farewell  then  Time,  farewell  for  ever; 

For  there  is  naught  but  death  for  me. 
A  slave  I  have  been  to  thee  ever, 

But  now,  in  dying,  I  am  free. 


b5 


TIDE  WAITS  FOR  NO  MAN. 

O  Tide,  O  Tide,  just  wait  one  moment, 

My  ship  is  not  prepared  to  sail ; 
She  must  be  manned  with  sailors  trusty, 

Equipped  to  meet  the  coming  gale. 
It  turned,  and  looking  back  a  moment, 

In  angry  waves  this  speech  began : 
"  I  cannot  listen  to  thy  pleading, 

I  cannot  wait  for  any  man." 

It  turned  and  left  me  at  my  mooring, 

And  seemed  to  mock  my  earnest  plea: 
'  *  Too  long  already  I  have  tarried 

On  my  long  journey  to  the  sea." 
Again  it  turned,  and  looking  backward, 

Derisively  thus  spoke  to  me; 
' '  Thy  words  to  me  are  vain  and  useless, 

No  longer  will  I  list  to  thee. " 


66 


^»»A^?S 

OP  THE  \x 

UNIVERSITY 

or 


And  yet  he  seemed  to  have  some  pity, 
With  kindness  spake  again  to  me. 

0  man  why  art  thou  so  persistent? 

My  work  has  been  mapped  out  for  me ; 
Was  given  to  me  by  my  Creator, 

In  aeons  past  my  work  began. 
I  must  no  longer  to  thee  listen, 

1  must  not  wait  for  any  man." 

Farewell  O  man !      Farewell  forever ! 
Dost  thou  not  know  that  I  am  free?" 

And  waving  me  a  bright  good  morning, 
The  Tide  then  hastened  to  the  sea. 

Alone  I  stood  upon  Life's  landing, 
The  waves  to  me  this  message  bore: 
Thou  needst  no  longer  by  me  loiter.  " 
They  then  receeded  from  the  shore. 

Upon  Life's  shoal  I  now  was  stranded; 

Alone,  forsaken  evermore. 
All  hope  had  with  the  Tide  receded, 

Life's  ship  wras  left  upon  the  shore. 


67 


FREEDOM. 

The  prisoned  bird  doth  oftimes  sing 

Behind  its  prison  bars; 
But  sweeter  far  its  song  would  be 

If  carolled  to  the  stars. 

Just  ope  his  door,  he  flies  aloft, 
The  hills  with  music  ring. 

Exultant  notes  of  melody 

The  bird  when  free,  will  sing. 

When  once  is  gained  his  liberty, 
Each  day  new  joys  to  meet, 

He  looks  not  back  to  prison  home, 
His  freedom  is  so  sweet. 

No  morsel  giv'n,  rio  word  of  love 
Will  tempt  him  back  to  cage. 

Though  he  may  often  lack  for  food, 
He  now  hath  freedom's  wage. 


68 


And  so  with  soul,  when  once  'tis  free, 

It  sings  sweet  notes  of  joy; 
Loud  hallelujahs  will  send  forth, 

In  them  is  no  alloy. 

When  once  the  soul  escapes  its  bonds 

To  soar  above  the  stars, 
Has  broken  chains,  and  freedotrTgained, 

It  ne'  er  goes  back  to  bars. 

It  soars  aloft,  a  happy  soul, 
E'en  to  bright  heaven's  dome. 

Emancipated  it  is  now 

From  narrow  gilded  home. 


Then  soul  be  free  from  error's  chain, 
And  break  the  bars  that  bind 

You  to  your  prison  cell  so  dark; 
Then  freedom  you  will  find. 


69 


No  more  you'll  sup  on  prison  food, 

Contented  with  a  crumb 
That  falls  to  you  from  gaoler's  hand, 

To  truth  forever  dumb. 

When  once  the  soul  its  prison  leaves, 

It  finds  such  sweet  relief 
In  knowing  that  the  truth  it  hath, 

Instead  of  a  belief. 


70 


REVERIE. 

I  am  sitting  in  the  gloaming, 

Sipping  honey  from  Life's  flowers; 

Gathering  sweetness  for  the  future ; 
I  will  store  it  in  Love' s  bowers. 

Nothing  bitter  will  I  gather 
To  confront  me  by  and  by. 

Though  dark  clouds  are  overhanging, 
Shining  is  the  sun  in  sky. 

All  the  little  clouds,  and  shadows 
I  will  drive  from  out  my  heart; 

For  I  love  the  sunshine  better, 
From  no  sunbeam  will  I  part. 

Though  the  raindrops  may  be  falling, 
Though  the  day  is  dark  and  drear; 

It  will  clear  before  Life' s  evening, 
And  Life's  sun  again  appear. 


71 


A  MOHAMMEDAN'S  PRAYER. 

Thou  art  Allah,  God  divine, 
And  we  bow  before  Thy  shrine. 
Humbly  bend  to  Thee  in  prayer. 
Thou  my  God  art  everywhere. 

Thou  hast  willed  th'  stars  into  space, 

Everywhere  we  see  Thy  face. 

In  sidereal  spaces  grand 

Worlds  were  fashioned  by  Thy  hand. 

Thou  art  Maker,  Ruler,  King; 
Of  Thy  praises  we  will  sing. 
Allah  great,  O  Allah  good! 
By  Thy  side  we  once  have  stood. 

We  are  part  of  Thee,  O  Lord, 
Though  we  sprang  from  'neaththe  sod. 
By  Thy  side  we  still  would  stand, 
Guided  by  Thy  loving  hand. 


72 


There  couldst  never  heaven  be 
But  for  immortality. 
Thou  dost  need  our  helping  hand 
Even  in  Thy  heavenly  land. 

Man  was  fashioned  from  the  dust, 
But  his  soul  doth  in  Thee  trust; 
And  will  rise  to  Thee  at  last, 
Not  forgetting  though,  its  past. 

Man,  from  ages  hath  come  down, 
And  in  future  Thou  wilt  crown 
Him  immortal,  part  of  Thee; 
Absorbed  in  Love,  in  Deity. 


73 


NATURE'S  PLAN. 

I  am  a  part  of  Nature's  plan, 
A  part  of  her  great  work; 

And  incomplete  would  be  all  life 
Should  I  my  duty  shirk. 

I  am  a  thread  in  Nature's  web, 
If  stitch  is  dropped  by  me, 

The  fabric  most  imperfect  is, 
Will  not  accepted  be. 

I  am  a  stone  the  builder  needs, 
No  other  stone  will  do; 

Nor  structure  ever  finished  be 
For  naught  will  do  in  lieu. 

For  I  was  fitted  for  the  place, 
Was  taken  from  the  earth, 

And  cut  to  fill  this  vacancy, 
E'en  at  my  very  birth. 


74 


There  is  a  leaf  in  Nature's  book 

That  is  reserved  for  me, 
And  I  must  write  my  name  thereon, 

No  blank  in  book  must  be. 

I  am  a  drop  in  Life's  great  sea. 

A  drop  seems  very  small; 
But  drops  of  water,  grains  of  sand 

Are  worthy  of  God's  call. 

I  am  a  little  candle  light 

That  throws  its  beams  —  not  far, 
Yet  lighting  up  the  space  around 

E'en  as  a  little  star. 

I  may  be  but  a  common  weed, 
But  weeds,  in  time,  are  flowers, 

And  are  a  part  of  Nature's  plan 
To  beautify  God's  bowers. 


75 


THE  SUNBEAM'S  WOOING. 

A  fickle  sunbeam  fell  in  love 

With  a  little  flower; 
He  scattered  sunshine  in  her  path, 

And  tarried  in  her  bower. 

The  little  flower  returned  his  love, 
Her  heart  was  filled  with  pride 

To  be  the  chosen  flower  of  love; 
To  be  the  sun-god's  bride. 

For  bridal  robe  on  wedding  day 
She  chose  her  richest  gown, 

And  donned  a  veil  of  sunshine  bright, 
And  dew-drops  for  her  crown. 

Then  up  the  aisle  of  sunbeams  swept, 

A  queen  of  beauty  she. 
The  sunbeam  never  brighter  was. 

In  gorgeous  dress  was  he. 


76 


Most  proud  he  was  of  his  fair  bride, 

So  beautiful,  and  pure; 
And  thought,  as  he  had  found  his  mate, 

His  love  would  aye  endure. 

But  sunbeams  are  not  always  true. 

In  glancing  round  one  day, 
He  saw  another  little  flower, 

And  by  her  wished  to  stay. 

His  chosen  bride  deprived  of  love, 

Soon  faded,  withered,  died. 
A  poor  forsaken  flower  of  earth 

For  love  now  vainly  cried. 

Alas  for  her!      His  love  had  cooled; 

He  hid  behind  a  cloud. 
He  hid  his  face  from  his  first  love 

Her  bridal  veil  was  shroud. 


77 


THE  PROGRESSION  OF  THE  ROSE. 

The  rose,  when  born,  was  purest  white, 
And  of  her  beauty  never  thought. 

The  sun  began  to  smile  on  her, 

Then  a  great  change  in  her  was  wrought. 

The  sun  looked  down  admiringly. 

She  of  her  beauty  'gan  to  think; 
Some  one  in  passing,  gave  her  praise, 

And  she  then  blushed  a  rosy  pink. 

The  moss-rose  next  sprang  into  life, 
With  beauty  rare,  and  fragrance  sweet. 

So  modest  was  this  little  rose, 

The  public  gaze  she  feared  to  meet. 

She  was  so  timid,  and  so  shy, 

She  hid  her  face  in  veil  of  green; 

It  was  a  crown  of  beauty  rare, 
More  beautiful  had  never  queen. 


78 


She  longed  though  for  companionship. 

She  wished  full  oft  to  tell  her  woes. 
So  chose  a  mate  among  the  flowers, 

And  then  became  a  bridal  rose. 

She  now  ambitious  was  to  rise, 

And  with  disdain  looked  on  the  earth; 

She  then  sent  many  tendrils  out, 

And  then  the  climbing  rose  had  birth. 

She  now  was  filled  with  greatest  pride, 
And  struggled  hard  to  reach  the  skies, 

But  Nature  sent  her  edict  forth 

That  she  no  higher  e'er  should  rise. 

The  rose  with  anger  now  was  filled, 
For  glancing  down  upon  her  bed, 

She  saw  a  worm  coiled  '  mong  her  roots, 
And  then  she  turned  an  angry  red. 

And  now  was  born  the  bright  red  rose, 
And  though  its  beauty  came  from  hate. 

No  one  disputes  its  right  to  reign 
A  royal  queen  in  regal  state. 


79 


ALL  LIFE  HATH  SOUL. 

The  running  brook  is  never  straight; 
A  pebble  oft  will  change  its  course; 
A  tiny  twig,  a  little  sand 
Is  oft  to  it  sufficient  force 
To  send  it  dancing  on  its  way 
To  reach  its  home,  the  sparkling  sea. 
So  with  our  lives,  from  birth  to  death, 
We'  re  struggling  ever  to  be  free. 

A  little  word,  a  little  thought 

Will  change  our  course,  will  change  our  way. 

For  life  doth  run  in  devious  paths, 

E'en  tiny  twig  it  must  obey. 

Alas!      Our  soul  wings  have  been  bound, 

Or  we  would  soar  beyond  the  clouds; 

And  know  the  destiny  of  man, 

And  why  a  pall  his  life  enshrouds. 


80 


We're  reaching  up  to  even  God. — 
For  we  would  know  life's  meaning  now; 
Free  from  the  shard  that  binds  our  thoughts, 
And  if  with  soul,  God  doth  endow 
The  lower  animals  as  we. 
And  if  all  life  hath  mind,  hath  soul? 
Whatever  God  hath  made,  hath  life, 
And  mind  doth  ever  life  control. 

All  living  things;   the  trees,  the  flowers, 
The  ocean,  mountain,  and  the  sea; 
The  pebbles  on  the  ocean  beach, 
And  also  grass  upon  the  lea. — 
We  are  as  sand  upon  Life's  hill, 
And  but  as  grass,  we  live  and  grow, 

Tomorrow  in  the  oven  cast;" 
For  Death  each  day  the  grass  doth  mow. 


81 


IT  MATTERS  NOT. 

What  matters  it  what  we  may  think, 

Or  what  is  our  belief; 
'Tis  worthless  straw  thrashed  o'er  and  o'er, 

No  wheat  is  in  the  sheaf. 

'Tis  what  we  are,  'tis  what  we  do 

That  makes  of  life  a  song. 
We  may  believe  that  black  is  white, 

And  though  we  are  quite  wrong: 

It  matters  little  to  the  world ; 

For  we  are  as  a  drop 
Of  water  in  Life's  ocean  broad; 

Life' s  tide  will  never  stop 

To  see  if  we  are  in  our  place, 

Or  what  we  mean  to  do; 
It  comes,  and  goes  without  our  help, 

Would  not  our  death  e'en  rue. 


82 


We  are  of  little  consequence, 
Although  perhaps  we  think 

The  world  would  be  a  barren  waste, 
If  we  perchance  should  sink 

Beneath  the  waves  of  Life's  great  sea. 

Or  on  its  shores  be  tossed. 
But  not  a  ripple  would  there  be 

E'en  though  our  lives  were  lost. 

The  world  would  e'er  go  on  the  same. 

Life's  tides  would  come  and  go; 
Regardless  of  our  happiness, 

Regardless  of  our  woe. 

And  yet  we  have  our  little  place, 

That  little  place  is  ours. 
None  other  could  our  life  work  do, 

Nor  pluck  for  us  Life's  flowers. 


83 


"WHAT  IS  MAN  THAT  THOU  ART 
MINDFUL  OF  HIM?" 

O  man  with  all  thy  knowledge, 

Dost  know  what  brought  thee  here? 
Dost  know  the  law  of  living? 

To  die  is  not  more  drear 
Than  living  on  uncertain 

Of  what  the  future  state. 
Is  death  annihilation? 

Is  it  to  be  our  fate? 

O  th'  myst'ry  of  our  coming! 

From  what  were  we  evolved? 
O  th'  myst'ry  of  our  going! 

Will  it  be  ever  solved? 
We're  filled  with  dark  forebodings, 

We  know  not  what  our  end. 
Is  there  a  power  that  governs? 

If  so,  we  to  it  bend. 


84 


Shall  we  e'er  know  the  myst'ries, 

The  problems  that  we  meet 
At  every  stage  of  living; 

With  fear  we  e'er  them  greet. 
What  may  be  in  the  future? 

The  present  we  deplore. 
The  past  hath  been  a  failure, 

With  shadows  e'er  before. 

An  angel  heard  my  questions, 

And  sorrowed  at  my  fears. 
"  O  know  that  God  is  mindful 

Of  man;    though  it  appears 
That  man  is  aye  complaining, 

Not  trusting  to  the  Power 
That  gave  to  him  existence, 

And  blessings  on  him  shower." 


85 


"ASA  MAN  THINKETH  SO  IS   HE." 

So  think  no  evil,  if  not  evil  thou  wouldst  be, 
For  as  thou  thinkest,  so  wilt  thou  e'  en  be. 
If  hate  thou  thinkest,  hate  will  thee  control. 
If  love  thou  thinkest,  love  will  fill  thy  soul. 

If  seeking  ill,  ill  in  thy  friend  thou' It  find. 
If  seeking  good,  to  good  thou  wilt  him  bind. 
Instead  of  seeking  in  thy  friend  for  sin, 
O  turn  a  retrospective  glance  within. 

For  what  thou  seekest  thou  wilt  surely  find, 
For  good,  or  evil  is  in  thine  own  mind. 
For  as  thou  thinkest,  thou  wilt  surely  be 
Then  seek  for  good,  and  happier  thou  wilt  be. 

Mayhap  thy  friends  may  evil  think  of  thee, 
Then  look  within,  and  shocked  thou  mayest  be 
At  thine  own  faults,  and  then  some  good  may'  st  see 
In  friend  or  foe,  whichever  he  may  be. 


86 


Before  thou  censurest  friend,  it  doth  behoove 
Thee  to  correct  thyself;   thy  ways  improve. 
Thou' It  find  thyself  no  better  than  thy  friend, 
And  thinking  good,  thy  conduct  will  amend. 

Love's  search-light  turn  upon  thy  bitterest  foe, 
And  thou  mayst  find  in  him  such  utter  woe 
That  all  thy  anger  mayst  then  turn  to  love, 
And  gentle  be  thy  thoughts  as  gentlest  dove. 

And  thou  shouldst  study  self  with  greatest  care; 
Though  heart  mayst  seem  most  pure,  some  fault 

there. 

The  faults  in  others,  thou  shouldst  aye  condone, 
If  thou  art  perfect,  thou  mayst  cast  a  stone. 


MY  GUESTS. 

Cold  Wisdom  was  a  guest  of  mine; 

But  Pleasure  came  one  day, 
And  she,  with  almost  fiendish  glee 

Drove  Wisdom  far  away. 

I  tried  to  call  chill  Wisdom  back; 

Alas!    it  was  too  late. 
She  never  could  an  entrance  gain 

With  Pleasure  at  my  gate. 

And  so  with  recklessness  I  gave 

Myself  to  Pleasure's  call. 
She  led  me  such  a  merry  chase, 

I  soon  seemed  past  recall. 

Then  Pleasure  seemed  to  tire  of  me, 
And  left  me  worn,  distraught. 

She  left  me  for  a  fresher  field, 
And  never  gave  one  thought 


88 


To  me,  nor  to  my  previous  life; 

She'd  other  things  to  do; 
For  she  had  other  lives  to  wreck, 

Had  work  in  pastures  new. 

For  Pleasure  has  no  conscience  e'er. 

She  cares  not  who  may  fall 
So  long  as  she  doth  have  her  way, 

Her  victims  to  enthrall. 

One  need  not  treat  her  with  disdain, 

Nor  drive  her  far  away. 
She  often  is  a  welcome  guest, 

If  Wisdom  too  doth  stay. 

Companions  they  may  even  be. 

Though  'tis  not  always  wise 
For  Pleasure  to  take  foremost  rank, 

Though  decked  in  royal  guise. 


89 


GOD  IS  EVERYWHERE. 

God  guides  us  o'er  the  barren  wilds, 

And  o'  er  the  waters  still ; 
He  guides  us  in  all  walks  of  life 

If  we  but  do  His  will. 

Is  with  us  in  the  sunshine  bright, 

And  in  the  falling  rain; 
And  God  is  in  the  pastures  green, 

And  in  the  growing  grain. 

And  He  is  in  the  fragrant  flower, 
And  in  the  smallest  weed; 

Is  in  our  every  thought,  and  act, 
Is  in  our  every  deed. 

He  dwells  upon  the  mountains  high, 

He  dwells  upon  the  lea; 
He  made,  and  rules  the  ocean  grand. 

He  dwells  upon  the  sea. 


90 


Through  ignorance  we  oftimes  sin, 
God  loves  us  though  we  fall; 

He  helps  us  to  arise  again, 
Does  ever  on  us  call. 

'Tis  vain  to  mourn,  'tis  vain  to  weep, 
And  we  should  feel,  should  know 

That  life  is  not  a  funeral  dirge, 
That  life  is  not  all  woe. 

And  we  must  live  for  others'  weal; 

Of  evil  e'er  beware. 
And  we  must  love,  and  we  must  trust; 

For  God  is  everywhere. 


91 


DEAD  HOPES. 

When  Love  was  young,  and  in  his  prime, 
And  in  deception  not  yet  skilled, 

I  found  that  guile  was  in  his  heart, 

E'en  as  with  saw-dust  dolls  were  filled. 

Alas!    Though  sad  the  lesson  was, 
And  with  the  deepest  misery  fraught; 

The  lesson  has  not  been  in  vain, 

Though  'tis  experience  dearly  bought. 

I  had  a  loved,  and  trusted  friend, 
But  when  I  found  she  was  untrue, 

I  plucked  her  image  from  my  heart; 
No  more  for  friendship  will  I  sue. 

Today  Love  pleads  to  me  in  vain; 

For  nevermore  shall  I  him  trust. 
When  once  deception  comes  to  us, 

Dead  hopes  henceforth  are  only  dust. 


92 


BURIED  HOPES. 

I  found  a  slight  flaw  in  a  diamond, 
And  now  it  is  worthless  to  me; 

Though  the  gem  is  as  brilliant  as  ever, 
Henceforth  'tis  the  flaw  I  shall  see. 

I  had  a  dear  friend  most  enticing, 
Her  life  seemed  so  pure  unto  me ; 

I  found  a  slight  fault  in  her  living, 
That  fault  evermore  I  shall  see. 

I  stood  by  the  grave  of  a  loved  one, 

The  world  seemed  so  drear,  and  so  cold; 

No  hope  in  my  heart,  and  the  future 
No  promise  of  peace  did  unfold. 

I  had  a  belief  in  my  girlhood, 

Essential  it  seemed  unto  me; 
But  now  my  belief  seems  a  phantom ; 

From  bigotry  now  I  am  free. 


93 


Alas  for  the  hopes  of  our  childhood; 

They  blossom,  then  wither  and  die, 
Are  buried  full  deep  in  Love's  coffin; 

The  grave  is  so  cold  where  they  lie. 

We  cherish  our  hopes  for  a  moment, 
A  will-o'-the-wisp  they  oft  are, 

Dark  phantoms  eluding  us  ever, 
And  often  our  lives  they  will  mar. 

I  seek  for  the  truth,  and  truth  only. 

All  error  henceforth  I  decry, 
And  hid  in  the  grave  of  oblivion 

Full  deep  in  that  grave  must  e'er  lie. 


94 


LOVE'S  MESSAGE. 

I  sent  thee  a  message  my  darling, 

Across  the  great  highway  of  thought. 

Transmitting  my  love  to  thy  keeping; 
Thy  soul  must  the  message  have  caught. 

Receiving  it  into  thy  being, 

Absorbing  my  love  into  thine. 
When  hearts  are  once  truly  united, 

The  love  of  their  souls  is  divine. 

And  life  is  a  heaven  created 

By  love,  the  great  Ruler  of  all, 

And  love  is  the  message  He  sendeth ; 
It  lightens  life's  heaviest  pall. 

Send  love  to  thy  friend  and  thy  neighbor. 

Send  love  to  thy  bitterest  foe. 
It  costs  thee  not  even  one  farthing. 

Love's  coin  we  can  always  bestow. 


95 


A  FABLE. 

A  mother  mouse  with  mien  most  humble 
Called  to  her  children  —  one  and  all  — 
Revealed  to  them  her  sins  so  many, 
That  o'er  her  heart  hung  like  a  pall. 

I  must  my  sins  be  expiating 
Before  my  life  draws  to  an  end. 
To  convent  holy,  I  will  enter, 
And  my  past  sins  will  there  amend." 

O  do  not  seek  me!      Do  not  follow! 
Where  I  am,  seek  not  to  know. 
Take  heed  my  children  to  my  warning, 
For  it  will  save  you  pain  and  woe." 

Farewell !    Farewell !    I  now  must  leave  you, 
Of  my  advice  O  pray  take  heed; 
And  do  not  follow  my  example, 
To  grief  it  surely  will  you  lead." 


96 


When  left  alone  the  little  mouselets 

Were  very  happy  for  a  while; 
For  mice,  like  children,  are  forgetful, 

They  soon  forgot  their  mother's  guile. 

They  hopped  around,  all  rules  forgetting, 
Until  their  hunger  made  them  think 

Of  their  dear  mother,  their  provider, 
Their  eyes  with  tears  then  'gan  to  blink. 

"  O  let  us  search  for  our  dear  mother; 

She  may  be  hungry,  cold,  or  dead. 
O  we  will  never  give  up  hunting, 

Though  we  may  die  with  her  instead. '  ' 

They  searched  for  her  in  every  corner, 

In  every  crevice,  every  nook. 
But  searched  in  vain,  they  could  not  find  her: 

So  thought  no  further  they  would  look. 


97 


But  they  a  big  round  cheese  discovered; 

It  long  upon  a  shelf  had  lain. 
"  Forsooth  we'll  take  a  little  breakfast, 

Our  search  has  not  been  all  in  vain.' ' 

All  their  past  searching  they  found  needless; 

For  snugly  housed  within  the  cheese 
They  found  their  poor  repentant  mother, 

With  conscience  very  much  at  ease. 

Forgotten  was  their  mother's  teaching, 
And  all  that  she  for  them  had  borne, 

They  only  thought  of  her  example, 

And  for  her  sins  they  could  but  mourn. 


If  you  have  sins  my  friends  to  mourn  for, 
Seek  not  a  cheese  to  hide  within. 

For  surely  someone  will  be  seeking, 
And  finding  cheese,  will  look  therein. 


98 


DEPLORE  NOT  THE  SHADOWS 
OF  LIFE. 

Our  lives  are  rounded  out  by  pain, 
And  though  it  oft  doth  seem 

That  we  have  more  than  we  can  bear, 
Through  it  we  catch  a  gleam 

Of  light  celestial  from  on  high; 

The  angels  speak  sweet  words 
Of  hope,  and  peace,  encouragement, 

Their  loving  care  engirds 

Our  weary,  worn,  and  saddened  hearts, 
And  though  not  understood 

While  here  on  earth,  we  know  full  well 
Our  lives,  by  God  are  viewed. 

E'en  though  in  life  are  many  clouds; 

There  is  some  sunshine  too; 
Then  store  the  sunshine  you  may  have 

And  shadows  not  pursue. 


99 


LOVE'S  GARLAND. 

We  will  weave  Love's  sweetest  garland, 
Fit  to  deck  a  monarch's  brow, 

We  will  hide  the  thorns  with  roses, 
And  before  Love's  throne  will  bow. 

We  will  strive  to  make  all  happy, 

And  will  never  duty  shirk. 
Never  loiter  by  life's  wayside, 

Ne'er  in  heart  shall  malice  lurk. 

We  are  sowing,  ever  sowing  — 
Soon  the  harvest  we  shall  reap; 

We  are  planting  for  the  morrow. 
Deeds  will  ripen  while  we  sleep. 

We  may  harvest  richest  blessings, 
Or  may  gather  thorns  instead. 

We  may  place  Love's  choicest  garland 
On  some  tired  and  drooping  head, 


100 


If  an  unkind  word  we  utter, 

We  shall  make  some  poor  heart  sad. 
If  we  give  a  cup  of  water, 

It  will  make  some  faint  heart  glad. 

We  may  often  light  life's  pathway 
With  the  candle  of  our  love, 

And  its  beams  will  shine  forever 
In  the  heaven  we  make  above. 

We  may  bring  a  ray  of  sunshine 
Where  before  was  darkest  cloud. 

And  with  flowers  hide  a  coffin, 
And  may  cover  up  the  shroud. 

We  can  give  a  smiling  welcome, 
We  can  send  out  loving  words; 

E'en  our  tears  may  comfort  some  one 
Showing  that  our  love  engirds, 


101 


And  surrounds  him  as  a  garland 
Woven  by  Love's  tireless  hands; 

Woven  from  Love's  sweetest  blossoms, 
Love  translated  in  all  lands. 

We  are  gathering  joy  or  sorrow 

In  our  every  walk  of  life. 
We  are  sowing,  we  are  reaping, 

Sowing  peace,  we  reap  not  strife. 

We  may  garner,  we  may  scatter 
Many  blessings  on  life's  road. 

We  may  help  to  carry  burdens, 
We  may  help  to  lift  the  load 

From  our  weaker  brother's  shoulders 
From  our  weary  sister's  way, 

We  may  cast  a  ray  of  sunshine 
O'er  some  dark  and  stormy  day. 


102 


LET  US  BUILD  ABOVE  THE  STARS 

Let  us  build  above  the  stars, 
We  are  able  to  thus  build, 
There  is  nothing  that  debars 
Us  from  ever  doing  so. 

Though  foundation  be  the  earth; 
Have  the  corner-stone  well  laid; 
If  it  grounded  was  at  birth, 
We  can  rest  our  pillars  there. 

Have  our  plans  all  drawn  with  skill, 
And  have  God  as  architect. 
We  must  ever  do  His  will, 
And  must  trust  Him  ever,  aye. 

Even  though  we  fall  to  earth 
With  the  plans  that  God  has  made. 
What  we've  gained,  to  us  is  worth 
All  the  efforts  we  have  made. 


103 


GHOSTS  OF  THE  ATTIC. 

Memory  takes  me  back  to  childhood 
To  my  home  upon  a  hill; 

I  am  sitting  in  the  attic, 

Memories  cause  my  heart  to  thrill. 

Now  the  rain  is  dropping,  dropping, 
Softly  dripping  from  the  eaves, 

And  the  wind  is  sighing,  moaning 
A  sad  dirge  for  dying  leaves. 

In  the  attic  there  are  hanging 

Herbs  of  catnip,  sage,  and  mint; 

Filling  all  the  air  with  fragrance, 
While  the  sunbeams  throw  a  glint 

Through  the  tiny  attic  windows, 
Then  they  rest  upon  a  chest; 

And  this  chest  seems  almost  sacred, 
For  beneath  its  lid  doth  rest 


104 


A  small  package  of  old  letters 
Tied  with  ribbon  once  so  blue; 

And  the  love  that  is  within  them 
Oft  though  told,  is  ever  new. 

Faded  now  the  ink,  and  ribbon, 
And  the  letters  yellow  are; 

But  the  words  which  there  are  written 
Father  Time  can  never  mar. 

They  were  written  by  my  father, 

Every  word  was  tender,  true, 
They  were  love  notes  to  my  mother, 

Even  now  when  brought  to  view 
(Though  the  ink  is  faded,  yellow, ) 

To  my  eyes  they  bring  hot  tears, 
To  my  breast  a  pang  of  anguish. 

They  are  ghosts  of  other  years. 


105 


Ghosts  of  love,  and  truth,  and  virtue, 
But  these  ghosts  I  would  not  lay; 

They  are  memories  of  my  childhood, 
And  through  life  shall  with  me  stay. 

O  the  subtle,  subtle  fragrance 

Of  the  herbs  upon  the  wall; 
They  now  fill  my  heart  with  sadness, 

And  to  memory  they  recall 
My  dear  mother,  my  dear  father, 

And  my  childhood's  happy  years; 
And  forgotten  they  are  never  — 

Ghosts  they  are  which  bring  no  fears. 

Now  the  home  of  my  dear  parents 
Is  the  grave-yard  by  the  sea. 

But  their  love  has  new  awakening 
In  the  bright  eternity. 


106 


NOT  YET. 

What  doth  the  future  hold  for  us? 

Shall  we  the  past  forget? 
The  answer  came  in  plaintive  tones: 

"Sometime  you  may.      Not  yet." 

When  will  the  future  be  made  plain? 

The  past  hold  no  regret  ? 
In  present  be  not  one  mistake  — 

The  answer,  is   "Not  yet." 

When  will  the  path  of  life  be  smooth? 

No  pitfalls  by  the  way, 
No  stone  to  bruise  our  weary  feet, 

And  never  shadows  gray. 

O  shall  we  ever  understand 

Why  trials  should  beset 
Us  in  our  every  walk  of  life? 

We  ask  in  vain :    ' '  Not  yet. ' ' 


107 


DUTY. 

When  Duty  doth  call  us, 

Unless  we  obey, 
No  rest  doth  she  give  us 

By  night,  nor  by  day. 

We  cannot  escape  her, 
She  gives  us  no  peace. 

Till  duty  is  done 

We  have  no  release. 

We  try  to  avoid  her, 
Pretend  not  to  see 

The  road  she  hath  taken 
O'er  mountain  or  lea. 

We  cannot  evade  her, 
For  by  us  she  stands, 

And  fetters  the  strongest 
She  binds  on  our  hands. 


108 


Though  we  may  not  listen 
To  Duty's  loud  voice, 

Obeying  her  mandates 
May  not  be  our  choice ; 

We  ever  are  happy 

When  duty  is  done; 
When  self  is  once  conquered, 

A  victory  is  won. 

She  smiles  now  upon  us, 

The  demon  is  laid. 
We're  glad  that  she  conquered, 

That  we  have  obeyed. 

We  will  no  more  stumble, 

Nor  push  her  aside, 
Triumphant  is  Duty, 

With  us  will  aye  bide. 


109 


We  now  have  acknowledged 

Her  right  to  control 
Each  thought,  and  each  action; 

Yea  —  even  our  soul. 

We  give  up  the  battle, 

Proclaim  our  defeat, 
Now  Duty  triumphant 

Doth  sweetly  us  greet. 

We  haul  down  our  banner, 

Put  Duty  on  throne, 
Though  we  were  once  traitors, 

We  now  will  atone 

For  all  our  past  errors, 

And  sit  at  her  feet, 
With  joy  do  her  bidding, 

Each  duty  will  meet. 

The  battle  is  ended, 
And  now  we  are  free 

From  selfish  indulgence, 
And  happy  are  we. 


110 


LIFE'S  PLAN. 

The  plan  of  my  life  is  marked  out, 
Is  traced  with  most  infinite  skill. 

Through  ignorance  the  plan  may  be  changed, 
And  of  good,  I  may  often  make  ill. 

Not  arbiter,  I,  of  my  life, 

Yet  I  must  forever  beware  — 
For  every  mistake  that  I  make 

Will  add  to  my  trouble  and  care. 

I  builded  the  best  that  I  knew, 

And  no  one  I'm  sure  could  do  more. 

The  Architect  God  drew  the  plans, 
I  knew  not  the  tracings  they  bore. 

So,  blindly,  I  work  from  the  plans; 

In  future,  they  all  will  unfold, 
God  means  that  sometime  I  shall  know; 

And  will  not  the  plans  e'er  withhold. 


Ill 


BROTHERHOOD  OF  MAN. 

We  are  the  children  of  one  God. — 

This  truth  I'll  not  deny. 
But  you  stand  clad  in  fine  array, 

Have  houses  grand,  while  / 
Must  toil  in  grime  from  morn  till  night, 

And  oft  am  hungry,  cold, 
My  loved  ones  living  in  a  hut, 

All  for  the  want  of  gold. 

y  ou  know  not  what  it  is  to  work; 

Your  measure  is  complete ; 
Aye  running  over;   pressed  hard  down; 

While  I  toil  on  in  heat, 
In  cold,  in  wind,  in  rain,  and  snow, 

With  aching  back  and  feet; 
With  pittance  small,  and  that  begrudged. 

You  scorn  me  when  we  meet. 


112 


You  prate  of   "  Brotherhood  of  Man," 

But  will  you  hold  the  plough? 
Or  till  the  soil,  or  plant  the  grain, 

Or  stack  the  hay  in  mow? 
I  see  you  smile  my  brother  ( ? )  man ; 

You  are  of  higher  birth. 
You  fix  your  eyes  upon  the  stars, 

While  mine  belong  to  earth. 

Your  children  must  to  college  go, 

But  mine  must  learn  to  work, 
Must  learn  to  wait  on  you  and  yours, 

And  never  duty  shirk. 
Yet,  brothers  we,  in  very  sooth, 

Are  children  of  one  God; 
And  though  you  claim  a  higher  birth, 

We're  leveled  'neath  the  sod. 


113 


MAN  DEFYING  THE  DYING  SUN. 

Farewell,  farewell,  O  dying  Sun! 

Thy  glorious  race  is  almost  run. 
But  I  acknowledge  this  to  thee 

That  thou  hast  fought  most  valiantly. 
Wast  ever  foremost  in  the  fight, 

No  rest  for  thee  by  day,  nor  night. 
I  too  have  fought  most  manfully, 

And  stand  erect,  defying  thee. 

I've  fought  the  fight,  have  gained  the  day, 

I  shall  live  on  forever,  aye. — 
Farewell  then  Sun,  for  thou  must  die; 

While  /  have  gained  eternity. 
When  thou  art  dead  and  cold,  O  Sun, 

Thou' It  be  a  crownless  king  laid  low. 
No  pity  shall  I  have  for  thee, 

O  thou  my  conquered,  fallen  foe. 


114 


Thou  seem'st  to  laugh  exultantly  — 

Thou  shalt  be  humbled,  haughty  Sun ; 
He  laughs  the  best,  who  laughs  the  last, 

For  now  thy  race  is  nearly  run. 
I  stand  alone  defying  thee 

One  moment,  then,  I  too  shall  die. 
But  I  have  gained  the  victory; 

I  nevermore  to  thee  shall  cry. 

Thou  standest  in  thy  majesty, 

Thou  standest  in  thy  glorious  might. 
With  scorn  thou  viewest  dying  man 

From  out  thy  wondrous,  wondrous  height 
Thou  lookest  down  on  me,  O  Sun, 

And  dost  contempt  upon  me  cast. 
But  thou  art  slowly  dying,  Sun, 

Thy  greatness  is  but  of  the  past. 


115 


I  stand  alone  upon  the  earth  — 

No  living  thing  can  I  now  see; 
But  I  shall  witness  thy  defeat; 

A  fallen  king  thou  soon  wilt  be. 
One  moment  I  shall  stand  erect; 

A  sovereign  of  the  earth,  and  space ; 
Then  die  as  thou  hast  died,  O  Sun, 

The  last  of  all  my  dying  race. 

The  last  of  all  humanity  — 

I've  struggled  hard  to  win  the  race; 
Have  conquered  too,  for  now  I  stand 

Alone  on  earth,  grim  death  to  face. 
The  earth  is  mine,  I've  conquered  thee 

One  moment  witness  thy  defeat, 
Then  falling  to  the  earth,  now  king; 

A  dead,  cold  Sun,  I  proudly  greet. 


116 


The  earth  is  cold;    (all  life  is  gone, — ) 

And  little  now  it  holds  for  me. 
I  miss  thy  warmth,  I  miss  thy  light, 

Although  I  stand  exultantly. — 
Thou  never  canst  atone,  O  Sun, 

For  all  the  misery  thou  hast  wrought  — 
'Tis  evermore  on  earth,  dark  night; 

Though  I  have  life,  'tis  dearly  bought. 

Farewell!    Farewell!    defeated  Sun! 
Thou  now  art  dead;   thy  race  is  run. — 


117 


IF  THERE  IS  NO  HEREAFTER. 

If  soul  has  no  hereafter, 
What  is  the  unknown  bond 

That  bindeth  soul  to  matter, 
And  what  is  the  beyond? 

What  is  the  power  that  buildeth? 

What  is  the  mind  that  wills? 
What  is  the  power  within  us 

That  all  our  being  thrills? 

If  there  is  no  hereafter 
What  use  to  us  was  birth? 

We're  naught  but  vegetation 
Encumbering  the  earth. 

If  knowledge  had  been  given 

Of  th'  power  that  brought  us  here  - 

The  law  of  living,  dying. — 
Of  death  we'd  have  no  fear. 


118 


We'd  start  on  our  new  journey, 
And  would  not  death  regret. 

These  questions  are  deep  problems 
Which  sometime  must  be  met. 

This  life  would  be  a  failure 
If  naught  there  was  beyond; 

No  tie  twixt  soul  and  matter, 
No  everlasting  bond. 


O  Thou  Almighty  Father! 

Canst  be  that  soul  must  die  ? 
O  listen  to  my  pleading, 

0  Father  hear  my  cry! 

O  tell  me  what  is  dying? 

1  would  by  Thee  be  taught. — 
Give  me  the  glimpse  of  heaven 

Which  1  so  long  have  sought. 


119 


LOVE'S  SONG. 

What  sounds  the  deepest  notes  of  life? 

Is  it  bright  sunshine,  aye? 
Some  wish  that  we  have  had  fulfilled, 

Or  pleasure  in  our  way. 

Are  we  the  happiest  when  some  note 
Of  praise  rings  through  the  air? 

Or  when  proud  Fame  entices  us, 
Then  leaves  us  to  despair. 

When  people  list  with  bated  breath 
To  hear  the  words  we  speak, 

And  words  of  admiration  give, 
And  joyously  us  seek? 

Ah  no!      The  deepest  note  is  struck 
When  we  with  others  weep; 

When  we  have  sympathy  for  those 
Who  are  in  trouble  deep. 


120 


It  is  afflictions  we  must  bear, 

Mistake^that  we  have  made, 
That  strikes  the  deepest  chords  of  life, 

And  ne'er  from  mem'ry  fade. 

The  loss  of  those  who  were  a  part 

Of  every  joy,  and  grief. 
The  shadowy  thoughts  within  our  souls 

That  is  of  life  the  chief. 

To  feel,  to  know,  there  is  a  world 

Where  we  shall  meet  again 
The  loved  ones  who  have  gone  beyond; 

But  not  beyond  our  ken  — 


Now  all  the  past  forgotten  is, 
And  notes  of  joy  will  ring 

Throughout  the  blest  eternity, 
For  we  Love's  song  now  sing. 


121 


FORGIVE. 

Forgive  me  dear,  I  did  not  know 

That  .words  of  mine  wouldst  cause  thee  woe. 

I  love  thee  all  too  well  to  bring 

To  thy  dear  heart  the  smallest  sting. 

Thy  life  is  all  too  sweet  and  pure 

To  ever  grief  or  pain  endure. 

And  evermore  I'll  guard  my  speech, 
E'ermore  my  careless  tongue  I'll  teach 
To  speak  but  loving  words  to  thee, 
From  caustic  speech  I  will  be  free. 
The  past  is  past.      Wilt  thou  forget 
The  words  I  spake  when  first  we  met? 

The  thoughtless  words  that  I  then  spake 
Will  ever  in  my  heart  awake 
Remorse,  and  sorrow,  deepest  pain. — 
O  must  I  plead  to  thee  in  vain? 
E'er  more  I'll  speak  but  love  words,  dear, 
For  only  love-words  shouldst  thou  hear. 


122 


FORGET. 

Forget  the  past,  'tis  dead  and  gone. — 
When  book  is  read,  no  further  con 
The  pages  old;    unless  therein 
There's  something  that  will  ever  win 
A  throb  of  joy  within  thy  heart, 
And  of  thy  life  seem  e'en  a  part. 

The  sacred  present  we  will  hold. 

The  future  to  us  will  unfold. 

The  dead,  dead  past  shall  be  entombed; 

Forget  it  dear,  for  it  is  doomed 

To  mould  in  grave,  to  dust  return, 

All  record  of  that  past  we'll  burn. 

Begin  the  "  Book  of  Life  "   anew; 
This  book  we'll  not  with  tears  bedew. 
In  it  we'll  have  but  love,  and  peace, 
All  bitterness  of  past  must  cease. 
The  present,  and  the  future  be 
Love's  sweetest  song,  and  symphony. 


123 


YESTERDAYS. 

For  all  the  buried  yesterdays 

I  have  not  one  regret; 
I  love  them  not,  I  mourn  them  not, 

I  would  them  all  forget. 

Of  all  the  dead,  dead  yesterdays 

Which  were  so  dearly  bought, 
1  care  not  to  remember  one, 

They  were  with  misery  fraught, 
They  held  no  joy,  they  held  no  peace, 

Each  day  had  some  deep  pain; 
So  I  would  never  call  them  back; 

Each  day  seemed  lived  in  vain. 

Today  I  live,  today  I  love, 

The  yesterdays  are  dead. 
I  wot  not  of  the  passing  days 

Though  by  them  I  am  led. 
Today  is  mine  with  all  it  holds, 

I'll  do  the  best  I  know. 
The  future  is  a  closed  up  book, 

And  may  be  filled  with  woe. 


124 


TOMORROW. 

O  the  sweet  happy  thoughts  of  tomorrow. — 
No  shadowy  clouds  in  Life's  sky, 

No  tears  in  our  eyes,  and  no  mourning, 
No  trouble  in  pathway  doth  lie. 

Today  may  be  filled  with  dark  shadows, 

Tomorrow  they  all  clear  away. 
For  Hope  is  the  goddess  that  guides  us, 

Tomorrow  she  with  us  will  stay. 

Tomorrow  may  not  be  as  happy 
As  Hope  bids  us  look  for,  today. 

But  if  we've  reached  out  for  Life's  gladness, 
Life's  gladness  will  come  in  our  way. 

'Tis  better  to  seek  the  bright  sunshine; 

The  rainbow  comes  after  the  clouds, 
And  sweeter  is  life  after  storm-clouds, 

For  vanished  the  gloom  that  enshrouds. 


125 


CONSOLATION. 

To  my  soul  a  voice  hath  spoken, 

Hath  spoken  thus  to  me. 
O  earth-child  be  not  discouraged, 

For  God  doth  pity  thee. 

Though  thy  way  be  filled  with  shadows, 
And  Life's  sun  obscured  by  clouds; 

Though  Life's  road  seems  leading  downward, 
And  deep  darkness  all  enshrouds; 

There  is  light  for  thee,  and  gladness, 
And  sweet  Peace  will  thee  enfold. 

In  the  evening,  in  the  gloaming 
Joy  unbounded  will  thee  hold. 

Never  more  will  desolation 

In  thy  heart  find  resting  place, 
If  with  Love  thou  meetest  troubles, 

And  with  him  thou  keepest  pace. 


126 


THE  DEAD  SUMMER. 

In  the  forest,  in  the  autumn, 

'Neath  the  oaks,  and  'neath  the  beeches, 

Are  the  dead  and  dying  children 

Of  the  mother  trees. 

And  the  trees  are  sighing,  moaning, 
And  the  clouds  are  weeping,  weeping 
Tears  of  sorrow  for  the  summer 
That  is  dead,  and  gone. 

E'en  the  sun  his  face  has  hidden 

By  a  veil  of  clouds  and  shadows, 

All  the  earth  seems  grieved  and  troubled 

At  the  summer's  death. 

But  the  earth  has  a  new  carpet, 
Gorgeous  with  its  brilliant  colors. 
For  the  autumn  leaves  have  covered 
And  hid  the  sodden  ground. 


127 


THERE  IS  A  RIFT  IN  THE  CLOUDS. 

Though  life  may  be  gloomy, 

And  dark  be  thy  way, 
No  light  in  thy  pathway, 

Not  even  one  ray. 
Look  up  to  the  heavens; 

There's  a  rift  in  the  clouds. 

Though  life  may  be  warfare, 
Thy  heart  have  no  peace, 

Fear  not,  thou  wilt  conquer, 
Thy  heart  have  surcease. 

Look  upward,  not  downward, 
There' s  a  rift  in  the  clouds. 

Though  friends  may  prove  faithless, 

And  false  unto  thee; 
There  may  be  a  reason 

That  thou  dost  not  see. 
Have  charity  always, 

And  see  rift  in  the  clouds. 


128 


Thy  days  may  be  cloudy, 

Thy  sun  be  obscured, 
To  thee  may  come  evil, 

It  can  be  endured. 
There's  a  rift  in  the  clouds. 

Soon  the  sun  will  peep  through. 

Give  comfort  to  some  one 
Who  comes  in  thy  way. 

O  be  not  despondent, 
Be  cheerful  alway. 

Look  up  and  be  happy, 
See  the  rift  in  the  clouds. 

May  the  rift  in  the  clouds 

O'erspread  all  thy  sky, 
And  all  birds  of  ill  omen 

Away  from  thee  fly. 
Seek  ever  life's  sunshine, 

And  the  rift  in  life's  clouds. 


TO  A  COMET. 

O  thou  uncanny,  fearful  thing! 

A  flaming  sword  art  thou; 
Thou  may'st  be  sent  by  demon's  hand 

Among  the  stars  to  plough. 

Thou'st  travelled  on  for  many  years, 

And  still  must  travel  on. 
Thy  master's  bidding  thou  must  do 

Until  the  victory's  won. 

Sometime  perhaps  thy  anger  fierce 
No  more  will  burn  in  wrath. 

Thou 'It  gently  fall  upon  the  earth, 
Leave  blessings  in  thy  path. 

Thou  art  a  mystery  now  to  us, 

Thy  life  may  be  divine  — 
Although  it  seems  that  demons  black 

Hath  part  in  life  like  thine. 


130 


LOVE'S  DART. 

My  heart  is  filled  with  joy  today; 

There's  peace  within  my  soul. 
My  cup  is  running  o'er  with  bliss, 

There's  love  in  pleasure's  bowl. 

I  will  not  think  of  aught  that' s  sad ; 

I'll  happy  be  today. 
Tomorrow  may  bring  pain  and  grief, 

But  love  will  each  allay. 

Life's  bowl  is  filled  with  happiness, 
There's  naught  that  I  regret. 

It  is  so  full  of  love  and  joy 
I  would  not  it  forget. 

The  god  of  love  peeped  in  at  morn, 
From  bow,  he  sent  a  dart, 

In  aim  he  was  so  accurate 
It  lodged  within  my  heart. 


131 


WEEDS. 

A  weed  was  in  my  garden  growing; 

I  nurtured  it  with  tender  care, 
It  grew  to  be  a  flower  of  beauty 

With  col'ring  rich  and  fragrance  rare. 

It  only  needed  love,  and  culture 
To  bring  out  beauty  from  its  heart; 

It  ever  had  been  timid,  shrinking, 
But  now  it  proudly  took  a  part 

With  other  flowers  whose  birth  was  higher. 

Though  coming  up  from  out  the  sod 
It  gave  to  all  sweet  ministration, 

It  was  a  thought,  a  part  of  God. 

Now  if  a  little  weed  so  humble, 
A  higher  place  in  life  could  gain 

By  care,  and  love,  and  sweet  attention, 
Why  not  a  human  weed  attain 


132 


Conditions  better,  and  by  struggling, 

Arise  from  out  its  low  estate? 
But  it  needs  help  and  cultivation 

To  rise  above  its  seeming  fate. 

It  needs  but  pruning,  needs  but  watching. 

From  human  weed  'twill  rise  to  be 
A  flower  of  love,  with  soul  of  beauty; 

It  needs  though,  love  and  sympathy. 

Though  but  a  weed  in  Life's  bright  garden, 
It  is  not  crushed  by  th'  heel  of  Fate. 

It  only  needs  a  new  awakening 

To  enter  Life's  bright  golden  gate. 

Then  give  at  least  as  much  attention 
To  human  weed  as  garden  flower, 

And  thus  you  will  enrich  creation, 

And  God  will  blessings  on  you  shower. 


133 


THE  BLIND  BEGGAR'S  APPEAL. 

Just  close  your  eyes  and  try  to  walk 
Along  the  crowded  thoroughfare; 
And  ask  each  passer-by  for  help, 
Then  know  the  insults  I  must  bear. 

I'm  hungry,  homeless,  cold  and  sick. 
I've  groped  around  the  livelong  day; 
No  pitying  word  have  I  once  heard, 
No  one  has  stopped  me  on  my  way 

A  little  pittance  to  dole  out 
To  me,  who  as  a  little  child 
Had  mother  love,  and  father's  care, 
Enough  to  eat,  enough  to  wear. 

O  God  have  pity!     And  now  take 
The  poor  blind  beggar  who  does  crave 
Some  resting  place  upon  the  earth; 
E'en  though  that  place  should  be  the  grave. 


134 


I  seek  some  shelter  from  the  cold ; 
Some  place  to  lay  my  weary  head. — 
Some  day  I  shall  have  covering  warm, 
But  that  will  be  when  I  am  dead. 

Sometime  sweet  flowers  will  cover  me, 
The  grass  grow  green  upon  my  grave. 
My  weary  body  will  have  rest, 
My  soul  return  to  God  who  gave 

The  poor  blind  beggar  rest  at  last, 
A  place  to  rest  beneath  the  sod, 
A  covering  of  sweet  flowers  and  grass.  - 
So  patiently  I'll  kiss  the  rod 

Though  it  may  scourge  my  body  weak, 
Though  I  be  hungry,  blind  and  poor, 
I'll  bear  my  burdens  patiently, 
And  thank  my  God  that  I  them  bore. 


135 


THE  THREADS  OF  LIFE. 

I  count  my  age  by  what  I've  done 
And  not  by  months,  and  years. 

I  count  from  smiles,  and  happiness, 
And  not  from  pain,  and  tears. 

By  these  I've  lived  an  hundred  years, 
May  live  an  hundred  more. 

I'll  count  the  sunbeams  in  my  life, 
The  clouds  I  will  ignore. 

I'll  count  the  good  that  I  have  done. 

Alas!      That  will  not  do. 
If  by  that  standard  I  should  count, 

My  years  would  be  too  few. 

Turn  back  O  wheel  of  Time  I  pray 

Another  chance  I  crave. 
I  would  more  worthy  be  of  life, 

More  worthy  of  the  grave. 


136 


But  I  have  failed  through  thoughtlessness. 

Through  ignorance  also; 
But  thoughtlessness  and  ignorance 

Excuse  me  not,  I  know. 

I  must  pick  up  the  threads  of  life, 

And  weave  them  o'er  again, 
For  every  stitch  I've  dropped  in  past, 

Has  left  on  soul  a  stain. 

Life's  shuttle  I  must  hold  with  care, 

Life's  web  must  perfect  be. 
I  weave  not  for  this  world  alone, 

But  for  eternity. 


137 


MEMORY'S  BOOK. 

I  ope  the  book  at  mother's  side, 
And  turn  the  leaves  so  pure. 

I  read  the  pages  with  delight; 
Their  innocence  allure. 

I  turn  the  leaves  with  greatest  care, 
I  find  there  naught  of  pain; 

'Tis  happy  childhood's  joyous  days, 
And  were  not  lived  in  vain. 

I  turn  another  leaf,  and  find 
Some  things  I  would  forget; 

Some  selfish  thought,  some  unkind  act, 
And  much  that  I  regret. 

Again  I  turn  a  leaf,  and  there 

I  see  inscribed  thereon, 
Mistakes,  and  errors,  selfishness, 

Yet  many  victories  won. 


138 


Full  many  times  I  con  quered  self, 

And  overcame  much  ill. 
These  memories  are  the  dearest  ones, 

And  linger  with  me  still. 

One  memory  sweet  has  its  own  place, 

Has  its  own  sacred  nest. 
'Tis  buried  deep  within  my  heart, 

And  rests  there  —  let  it  rest. 

0  childhood  days  come  back  again! 
When  at  my  mother's  knee 

1  learned  the  songs  my  mother  sang, 

In  our  cottage  by  the  sea. 


139 


DO  NOT  BORROW  TROUBLE. 

Do  not  ever  trouble  borrow; 

You'll  find  enough  of  it  at  home; 
Find  enough  for  self,  and  neighbor, 

You  will  for  it  not  have  to  roam. 

Go  not  forth  to  meet  sad  Trouble, 
For  she  with  tears  will  e'er  you  greet. 

But  if  given  a  cold  greeting, 

She  will  acknowledge  her  defeat. 

Do  not  cross  life's  troubled  waters 
While  you  are  yet  upon  the  land. 

Do  not  feel  that  you  are  sinking 

Beneath  life's  drifting,  shifting  sand. 

Though  your  life  may  seem  a  desert, 
Of  scorching  winds,  and  burning  sand; 

You  may  find  some  green  oasis, 
Some  beauty  in  a  desert  land. 


140 


Trouble  is  a  turbid  river. 

On  it  you  need  not  launch  life's  boat. 
Life  has  rivers  calm  and  peaceful, 

And  placid  streams  on  which  to  float. 

You  may  never  cross  the  river, 

On  troubled  sea  may  not  be  tossed. 

Though  life's  bridge  be  weak  and  swaying, 
By  you,  the  bridge  need  not  be  crossed. 

Do  not  think  that  you  must  carry 
The  burdens  of  life's  yesterday. 

Do  not  look  for  grief  tomorrow, 
With  courage  live  your  life  today. 

You  must  rise  above  all  trouble, 
And  keep  it  ever  from  your  view; 

It  can  ever  then  be  vanquished, 
And  you  can  bid  it  glad  adieu. 


141 


GIVE  SMILES,  NOT  TEARS. 

Give  to  the  world  your  happy  thoughts, 

Too  many  give  but  tears. 
A  word,  a  thought,  a  deed  full  oft 

Makes  some  heart  sad,  or  cheers 
Some  lonely,  weary,  world  sick  soul, 

Who  now  will  drop  his  cares, 
And  even  smile  at  his  defeats, 

And  disappointment  bears. 

For  in  his  heart  is  now  a  hope, 

A  hope  for  better  things. 
The  world  is  now  not  half  so  sad, 

And  joy  it  even  brings. 
If  you  are  sad,  hide  grief  beneath 

A  happy  smiling  face. 
No  one  is  better  for  your  tears, 

Nor  stronger  for  Life's  race. 


142 


Then  bury  grief  within  your  heart, 

And  dig  its  grave  full  deep ; 
And  cover  it  with  flowers  of  Hope, 

And  do  not  o'er  it  weep. 
Too  many  keep  their  sorrows  fresh 

By  tears  too  often  shed. 
Look  up!    Look  out!   Your  sorrows  hide, 

And  rest  in  Hope's  own  bed, 


143 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  DYING  YEAR. 

Farewell!    farewell!    thou  dying  year; 

For  thee  we  will  not  mourn, 
But  bury  thee  in  grave  of  past, 

In  garments  worn,  and  torn. 

And  yet,  thou  hast  not  been  unkind, 
Thou'st  giv'n  more  smiles  than  tears; 

Hast  giv'n  us  health,  e'en  though  not  wealth, 
Bright  hopes  of  coming  years. 

So  we  should  bury  thee  with  pomp, 

Take  off  thy  garments  torn, 
And  give  to  thee  more  fitting  shroud 

Than  that  which  thou  hast  worn. 

Though  we  give  tribute  to  the    new; 

We'll  still  remember  thee. 
We  know  thou  didst  the  best  thou  couldst 

While  struggling  to  be  free. 


144 


Free  from  the  chains  that  bound  thee  down, 

And  though  we  shed  no  tear 
At  thy  demise,  we  feel  that  thou 

Hast  given  us  some  good  cheer. 

The  blare  of  trumpets  at  thy  death 

Shouldst  sorrow  to  us  bring, 
For  thou  canst  never  be  recalled. 

A  dirge,  we  should  then  sing, 

For  opportunities  we've  lost. 

Our  chance  comes  not  again 
To  do  the  things  we  should  have  done. 

How  sad  the  words, ' '  It  might  have  been. ' 


145 


THE  BOOK  OF  GIFTS. 

An  angel  came  to  me  one  day 
With  "  Book  of  Gifts"   in  hand, 

And  offered  any  one  therein 
That  I  should  then  demand. 

With  pride  he  pointed  out  to  me 

Each  gift,  and  urged  that  I 
Would  take  from  them  the  choicest  one. 

For  in  his  power  did  lie 
The  giving  out  of  life's  rich  stores. 

This  single  time  had  man 
Been  given  the  choice  of  worldly  gifts 

Since  life  on  earth  began. 

I  had  the  choice  of  all  life's  gifts, 
Fame,  honor,  untold  wealth. 

I  chose  not  one  he  offered  me, 
But  begged  for  love  and  health. 


146 


UNKIND  WORDS. 

If  we  could  know  the  sorrow 

That  unkind  words  aye  give; 
We  never  would  them  utter; 

For  unkind  words  will  live 
Long  after  we've  forgotten 

That  we  the  words  once  spake, 
And  that  a  harsh  word  spoken 

Some  weary  heart  may  break. 

When  once  a  word  has  started 

Upon  its  journey  long; 
It  travels  on  forever. 

And  mingles  with  the  throng 
Of  other  words  of  censure; 

More  bitter  grows  each  day, 
And  though  perhaps  forgiven 

It  sometime  love  will  slay. 


147 


SEEK  FOR  THE  GOOD  IN  LIEE. 

In  our  lives  there' s  much  of  gladness, 

Also  much  that  is  sad, 
Much  in  life  without  a  blemish, 

Many  things  that  may  be  bad. 

But,   we  should  ignore  all  evil; 

There  is  ever  much  of  good. 
We  shall  find  what  e'er  we  look  for, 

Then  o'er  evil  do  not  brood. 

Grasp  the  good  when  e'  er  you  find  it. 

Good  is  not  for  but  the  few ; 
If  too  much  to  you  is  given, 

Some  one  else  can  share  with  you. 

There  is  sunshine,  there  is  shadow, 
Clouds  must  come  before  the  rain; 

After  storm  clouds,  comes  the  rainbow, 
Oft  from  grief,  we  peace  attain. 


148 


Some  one  else  must  share  our  troubles; 

They  should  share  our  pleasures  too; 
For  life' s  flowers  are  ever  brightest 

When  Love's  tears  the  flowers  bedew. 

Be  ye  never  then  disheartened, 
There  is  beauty  everywhere. 

There  are  fragrant  flowers  growing 
In  the  garden  of  Despair. 

Let  us  then  be  not  discouraged, 
Soon  life's  storms  will  clear  away. 

Though  our  griefs  seem  overwhelming, 
Brighter  soon  will  be  life's  day. 

Though  life's  sun  his  face  has  hidden, 
And  black  clouds  obscure  our  view, 

All  the  flowers  take  on  new  beauty, 
After  rain,  and  after  dew. 


149 


LOVE'S  CROWN. 

The  tasks  that  have  been  set  for  me, 
Are  almost  done;    are  almost  done. 

I've  labored  hard,  and  faithfully, 
But  now  life's  race  is  nearly  run. 

I'm  weary,  and  I'm  sore  distressed, 
My  burdens  all  too  heavy  are. 

In  vain  I  try  to  lay  them  down ; 

I've  brought  them  all  too  far,  too  far. 

I'll  try  to  lay  them  down  at  eve, 
And  from  my  labors  try  to  rest. 

Though  I  begin  another  day, 

Tonight  I'll  rest,  tonight  I'll  rest. 

Tomorrow  at  the  break  of  day, 
Again  I  take  them  up  with  grief, 

And  through  another  day  I  work; 
For  me,  there  never  comes  relief. 


150 


Complaints  will  never  do  my  work, 
Nor  fit  me  for  life's  weary  day. 

With  courage  then  I'll  do  my  tasks, 
And  all  life's  laws  try  to  obey. 

I'll  bear  my  cross  whate'er  it  is, 
No  one  shall  bear  a  cross  for  me; 

And  though  I  bend  beneath  life's  load, 
From  selfishness  I  will  be  free. 

There  is  a  time  not  distant  far, 

When  I  can  lay  life's  burdens  down. 

So  many  crosses  I  have  borne, 

At  last  I  hope  to  win  Love's  crown. 


151 


MY  SOUL'S  DESIRE  AND  DESTINY 

I've  travelled  down  through  centuries. 
Have  never  known  one  moment's  rest. 
Have  passed  through  every  phase  of  life. 
Is  this,  O  Father,  Thy  behest? 

I've  battled  with  conditions  that 
Oftimes  seemed  much  too  hard  to  bear, 
Would  then  give  up,  and  seem  to  sink 
Into  the  maelstrom  of  Despair. 

Again  would  take  Life' s  burdens  up 
Without  a  knowledge  of  my  past. 
Experience  was  of  little  use 
In  seething  whirlpool  it  seemed  cast. 

The  same  temptations  come  to  us; 
As  fiends,  they  ever  us  pursue. 
The  consequences  are  the  same. 
We've  brought  down  retribution  too. 


152 


I  still  desire  to  live,  to  do  — 

I  am  not  ready  yet  to  change 

My  form,  my  thoughts,  my  puny  life; 

E'en  though  I  gain  a  wider  range. 

Absorbed  though  I  may  be  in  Love, 
And  e'en  a  part  of  Deity, 
I  still  am  human  in  desire, 
And  human  still,  I  wish  to  be. 


Soul's  Destiny  I  now  take  up. — 
Where  shall  I  go?     What  shall  I  be? 
Shall  I  aye  travel  on,  and  on? 
Or  be  a  part  of  Deity. 

Will  memories  of  the  past  be  mine? 
And  will  a  panoramic  view 
Before  mine  eyes  be  ever  cast? 
If  so,  that  past  I  can  but  rue. 


153 


Absorbed  in  God,  I  lose  myself. 

I  am  no  part  of  my  own  life. 

Though  one  with  God,  and  part  of  Him, 

My  soul  will  still  keep  up  its  strife 

To  be  itself^  apart,  though  with 
The  Maker,  Ruler  of  my  soul. 
The  Soul's  Desire  is  not  yet  dead, 
E'en  though  bright  heaven  is  its  goal. 

Though  I  may  carry  ' '  Karma ' '   on, 
Improve  upon  it  ever,  aye; 
Could  I  not  do  the  same,  and  yet 
Not  on  this  weary  earth  e'er  stay? 


154 


INCARNATION. 

Though  part  and  parcel  of  the  past 
The  future  is  an  unknown  book  — 
Though  writing  for  eternity, 
I  dare  not  on  its  pages  look. 

My  past  is  dead,  and  buried  too. 
In  grave  of  Hope  it  lies  full  deep; 
It  resurrected  ne'er  shall  be, 
It  is  a  nightmare  of  my  sleep. 

Will  life's  fair  morning  never  come? 
I  wait  for  it  impatiently. 
And  Death's  long  sleep  I  fain  would  break 
With  all  its  gruesome  mystery. 

I  pray  to  go  forever  on, 
Retracing  ne'er  earth's  steps  again. 
Incarnate  once,  and  only  once, 
I  would  not  live  on  earth  again. 


155 


REINCARNATION. 

I  feel  that  I  have  lived  before, 
That  I  shall  live  again. 
Shall  yet  have  my  desires  fulfilled, 
Although  I  know  not  when. 

If  now  is  all  there  is  of  life, 
What  use  to  me  was  birth? 
Not  one  desire  has  been  fulfilled, 
Since  first  I  came  to  earth. 

There  is  a  realm  not  yet  explored, 
I  feel  it  in  my  soul, 
I'll  struggle  on   (though  oft  I  fail) 
To  reach  that  blissful  goal. 

Full  oft  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  past. 
Old  mem'ries  round  me  throng. 
The  mem'ries  of  a  long  gone  past. 
Again  I  hear  a  song 


156 


That  I  once  heard  in  previous  life, 
And  it  to  me  doth  seem 
As  though  an  angel  sang  the  song; 
My  life  his  chosen  theme. 

The  notes  seem  now  so  strange  and  weird. 
I've  heard  them  though,  before; 
In  former  life  the  music  sweet 
Came  from  celestial  shore. 

A  vague,  vague  dream  of  other  lives 
Doth  often  with  me  stay; 
But  when  I  try  to  hold  the  dream, 
It  vanishes  straightway. 

My  present  life  is  incomplete. 
A  fragment  is  of  past. 
I  shall  take  up  the  threads  again, 
And  in  Life's  loom  them  cast. 


157 


The  ''Great  First  Cause"  has  charge  of  all 
The  lives  that  have  been  mine. 
The  web  that's  woven  on  Life's  loom 
In  time  becomes  divine. 

Absorbed  in  God  I  soon  shall  be. 
E'en  now  I  feel  Love's  kiss. 
Life's  struggles  soon  will  ended  be 
In  everlasting  bliss. 

What  was  my  life  in  that  dim  past? 
It  matters  not  to  me. 
My  Karma  of  the  past  will  be 
Absorbed  in  Deity. 


158 


LIFE'S  BURDEN. 

Each  one  hath  some  burden  to  carry, 
Each  one  hath  some  sorrow  or  woe. 

But  hearts  that  are  cheerful,  and  willing, 
Can  every  trouble  o'erthrow. 

We  will  not  complain,  but  have  courage 
To  bear  every  cross,  and  all  pain; 

For  burdens  when  carried  with  patience 
Are  blessings  which  we  may  attain. 

Our  hopes  may  be  bright  in  the  morning, 
But  fade,  as  the  day  grows  apace; 

Though  clouds  may  obscure  all  Life's  evening, 
With  patience  these  clouds  we  must  face. 

Behind  every  cloud  is  some  sunshine, 
Behind  every  grief  is  some  mirth. 

Behind  every  tear  there  is  laughter, 
Though  tears  came  first  at  our  birth. 


159 


TO  MOUNT  SIERRA. 

Thou  grand  old  granite  mountain 
Canst  tell  me  what  thy  age? 

What  secrets  art  thou  holding 
Within  thy  heart  O  sage. 

Couldst  man  find  out  by  delving 
Deep  in  thy  stony  breast, 

How  long  thou  hast  been  rearing 
On  high,  thy  hoary  crest. 

Hadst  thou  e'er  a  beginning? 

Wilt  thou  in  death  e'er  fall? 
Canst  thou  these  questions  answer? 

On  thee  I  humbly  call. 

Is  life,  within  thy  bosom? 

Or  art  thou  cold  and  dead? 
Thou  standest  in  thy  myst'  ry 

No  tears  of  misery  shed. 


160 


Thy  heart,  thy  life  is  granite, 
Thou  carest  not  for  woe. 

If  tear  thou  ever  sheddest 
It  turns  to  ice  and  snow. 

But  why  seek  I  thy  secrets, 
Thou  haughty  mountain  king? 

Thou  wilt  not  give  me  answer, 
No  knowledge  to  me  bring. — 


The  wind  doth  give  me  answer 
That  thou  wast  born  of  fire. 

Thou  claimest  Earth  as  mother, 
Jehovah  is  thy  sire.  • 

Farewell  O  Mount  Sierra! 

I  leave  thee  to  thy  rest. 
But,  man  will  wrench  thy  secrets 

In  future  from  thy  breast. 


161 


OFT  POISONED  IS  THE  WINE  OF  LIFE. 

Socrates  drank  of  the  hemlock;  — 
Others  drink  of  poisons  deadly. — 
Poison  as  a  draught  of  hemlock 
Will  unrequited  love  aye  be. 

And  ingratitude  of  loved  ones 
Sharper  than  a  sepent's  tooth  is, 
And  misunderstandings  cruel 
That  ever  meet  us  on  Life's  way. 

Often  we  are  greeted  coldly, 
By  the  ones  who  should  be  friendly. 
We  may  fall,  and  we  may  falter. 
Life's -battles  we  may  never  win. 

Others  soon  will  take  our  places. 
Take  the  love,  and  take  the  friendship, 
Which  was  ours  by  laws  most  holy, 
And  love  is  now  but  in  the  name. 


162 


Hemlock  would  not  be  as  poisonous, 

Nor  would  be  so  hard  its  taking, 

As  cold  words  of  bitter  taunting 

From  trusted  friends  whom  we  have  loved. 

Faithless  friends  may  give  a  chalice, 
Filled  with  poison  just  as  deadly, 
As  the  hemlock  which  was  drunken 
By  Socrates  in  that  long  past. 

Every  day  we  meet  deception 

From  some  one  we  loved,  and  trusted. 

Poison  may  be  in  each  vessel 

From  which  we  drink  the  wine  of  Life. 


163 


THE  GAME  OF  LIFE. 

Would  we  turn  back  the  wheel  of  Time, 

And  live  this  life  all  o'er? 
Take  up  the  threads  of  life  anew, 

And  weave  them  as  before? 

Methinks  I  hear  you  say  "Ah  no!  " 

Life' s  fabric  is  worn  out. 
The  colors  too,  have  lost  their  hue. — 

I  would  not  turn  about 

And  live  my  life  all  o'er  again, 

Unless  I  could  improve 
Upon  the  game  of  Life  I've  played; 

More  skillfully  could  move. 

For  I  have  oft  made  dire  mistakes, 

Made  errors  in  Life's  deal, 
And  could  I  change  the  game,  would  it 

Add  something  to  my  weal? 


164 


I  never  learned  Life's  game  quite  right; 

Mistakes  I  ever  made, 
And  if  I  gained  a  single  point, 

My  ignorance  next  outweighed 

All  I  had  gained  in  former  move. 

I  ever  lost  in  game. 
It  seems  I  ever  lacked  in  skill, 

If  so,  I'm  not  to  blame. 

And  now  the  game  I  must  give  up, 

But  I  will  not  despair. 
I  will  begin  all  o'er  again  — 

Defeat  I  cannot  bear. 

But  it  will  not  be  on  this  earth; 

For  here  I'm  done  with  life. 
I've  played  Life's  game,  and  ever  lost, 

To  live  is  naught  but  strife. 


165 


'THE  OLD,  OLD  STORY." 

Come  into  the  garden  sweet  Lilith 

When  the  clock  in  the  tower  strikes  nine. 

When  the  moon  by  the  hill  tops  is  hidden, 
For  thine  eyes  e'er  the  moonbeams  outshine. 

Come  into  the  garden  my  loved  one, 
While  the  nightingales  sing  in  the  trees. 

All  th'  air  is  filled  with  the  fragrance 

That  the  flowers  send  forth  to  the  breeze. 

Come  into  the  garden  and  meet  me 
Beneath  the  old  oak  on  the  lawn. 

To  thee  I  will  tell  the  same  story 

That  was  told  at  the  world' s  first  dawn. 

Come  into  the  garden  sweet  Lilith, 
To  thee,  F  d  anew  my  vows  plight. 

Again  I  would  speak  to  thee  love  words, 
Again  by  the  moon's  waning  light. 


166 


Come  into  the  garden  my  Lilith, 

The  meadow  lark  chants  his  love  song. 

E'en  the  trees  are  whispering  sweet  love  notes, 
For  they  to  each  other  belong. 

Come  into  the  garden  sweet  Lilith, 

Where  the  fire-flies  seem  dancing  around. 

They  are  plighting  their  love  to  each  other, 
Their  love  smiles  light  up  all  the  ground. 

Come  into  the  garden  sweet  Lilith, 

0  listen,  sweetheart,  to  my  plea. 

The  trees,  and  the  birds,  and  the  fire-flies 
Tell  their  love;    then  why  should  not  we? 

My  heart  is  with  love  overflowing, 

1  would  clasp  thee  in  Love's  close  embrace. 
If  parted  from  thee  my  sweet  Lilith, 

Thy  love  I  could  never  efface. 


167 


THE  GHOST  OF  LOVE. 

Thou  art  a  specious  pleader, 
But  thou  dost  plead  in  vain. 

Though  once  I  loved,  and  trusted, 
My  love  and  trust  thou'st  slain. 

Though  in  the  past  were  hidden 
Thy  many  faults  from  me; 

As  phantoms  they  now  haunt  me, 
As  ghosts,  those  faults  I  see. 

The  mask  that  ever  covered 

The  evil  in  thy  life, 
From  thy  false  face  hath  fallen, 

And  now  thy  passions  rife 

Stand  out  in  greatest  contrast 
From  what  they  seemed  in  past. 

To  me  'tis  revelation  — 
With  awe  I  stand  aghast. 


168 


And  feel  a  sense  of  horror, 
That  love  should  come  to  me 

For  one  whose  life  was  hideous, 
But  now,  — Thank  God  I'm  free! 

Free  from  the  ties  that  bound  me, 
Free  from  the  chains  of  ill. — 

Thy  love  no  more  enthralls  me, 
And  yet  —  O  heart  be  still ! 

I  find  that  love,  and  pity 
Lie  deep  within  my  heart. 

I  cannot,  cannot  hate  thee  — 
Thou  art  of  life  a  part. 

Farewell!      Farewell!     'Tis  better 
For  both ;   that  we  are  free. 

For  life,  when  trust  hath  left  us 
Is  naught  but  misery. 


169 


I  SHALL  SING  IT  SOMETIME. 

There  is  a  poem  somewhere 
That  is  perfect  in  its  time; 

That  is  perfect  in  its  metre, 
That  is  perfect  in  its  rhyme. 

It  is  written  on  the  flowers, 

It  is  floating  in  the  air; 
It  is  written  on  the  hill  tops, 

It  is  singing  everywhere. 

And  I  know  sometime  I'll  write  it  — 

It  is  singing  in  my  brain. 
I  will  seek  it,  I  will  find  it, 

In  my  soul  it  long  has  lain. 

When  I  try  to  grasp  this  poem, 

It  eludes  me  ever,  aye  — 
It  is  ever  just  beyond  me, 

Though  I  hear  it  night  and  day. 


170 


It  is  sung  by  hosts  unnumbered, 

And  was  heard  when  world  was  new 

It  is  heard  when  storm-clouds  gather, 
And  in  glistening  drops  of  dew. 

'Tis  the  singing  of  the  flowers, 
'Tis  the  music  of  the  stars. 

'Tis  the  rhythm  of  the  ocean, 
And  most  perfect  are  its  bars. 

In  the  universe  'tis  written, 
And  it  is  so  sweet,  and  rare  — 

It  was  written  by  the  Master, 
It  inspires  every  prayer. 

O  if  I  could  catch  the  rhythm 
That  aye  fills  the  universe  — 

That  is  sung  by  choir  of  angels; 
Inspired  would  be  my  verse. 


171 


In  Cathedral  'tis  resounding, 

Chanted  'tis  at  altar  pure; 
And  the  rhythm  haunts  me  ever  — 

Spirit  song  which  doth  allure. 

It  is  stately  in  its  measure, 

Though  it  be  a  sad  refrain ; 
Though  it  be  a  merry  jingle 

That  goes  dancing  through  my  brain. 

Yet  it  may  be  but  the  echo 

Of  a  symphony,  or  dirge, 
Or  a  mother' s  loving  ditty, 

That  may  through  my  brain  e'er  surge. 

'Tis  the  waterfall's  loud  roaring, 
Or  the  humming  of  the  bee. 

'Tis  the  raging  of  the  tempest 
As  it  moans  upon  the  sea. 


172 


'Tis  the  detonating  cannon, 
Or  the  sigh  of  dying  leaf. 

'Tis  a  song  of  glad  rejoicing, 
Or  a  threnody  of  grief. 

'Tis  the  ghost  of  an  old  love  song, 
Or  the  spirit  of  a  prayer. 

'Tis  a  wail  of  deepest  anguish, 
And  I  hear  it  everywhere. 

It  is  floating  in  the  ether, 

It  is  written  in  the  sky; 
But  wherever  may  be  poem, 

I  shall  sing  it  by  and  by. 

Be  it  song,  or  be  it  anthem  — 
It  doth  in  my  heart  e'er  lie; 

And  my  soul  for  song  is  waiting, 
I  shall  sing  it  by  and  by. 


173 


WHEN  I  AM  DEAD. 

Will  friends  remember  that  I  lived, 
Give  me  a  passing  thought, 

Give  tribute  to  what  I  have  done, 
To  what  I  may  have  wrought. 

Or  will  they  pass  with  heedless  laugh, 

Not  feeling  one  regret 
That  I  have  gone  beyond  their  ken; 

And  will  they  soon  forget 

That  /  loved  them,  that  they  loved  me, 
That  friendship  in  the  past 

Was  part,  and  parcel  of  our  lives; 
We  hoped  'twould  ever  last. 

But  when  I'm  dead,  I  hope  few  tears 

Will  then  be  shed  for  me. 
If  others  then  shall  take  my  place, 

I  shall  not  grieve  to  see 


174 


My  loved  ones  happy  without  me. 

Why  should  they  grieve  for  aye? 
Their  duties  they  must  ever  do, 

The  laws  of  life  obev. 


Forget  me  then  when  I  am  dead; 

I  fain  would  have  it  so. 
If  world  is  better  for  my  life, 

Bequeath  I  would  not  woe 

To  those  I  leave  behind  on  earth; 

They  need  not  shed  one  tear, 
Nor  be  unhappy  for  one  hour; 

Nor  need  they  have  one  fear 

Of  what  befalls  me  when  I  die. 

I'll  go  where  I  belong. 
I  shall  not  crowd  nor  push  aside 

The  ever  swelling  throng. — 


175 


My  place  I've  made  while  here  on  earth, 

And  I  shall  go  therein 
Without  a  fear,  without  a  thought 

Of  any  earthly  sin. 

I've  lived,  I've  loved,  I've  done  the  work 

That  was  laid  out  for  me. 
I  still  shall  live,  I  still  shall  love 

Throughout  eternity. 


Be  patient  with  the  living  ones, 
The  dead  need  not  your  care. 

The  living  ones  need  comforting 
For  much  they  have  to  bear. 


176 


'TIS  FOLLY  TO  BE  WISE." 

Poor  Folly  will  build  a  grand  mansion, 
And  in  it  the  wise  man  may  live. 

Poor  Folly  may  hoard  up  his  money, 
But  Wisdom  will  gladly  it  give. 

Poor  Folly  Life's  game  is  aye  playing, 
And  often  the  game  he  may  win. 

And  Folly  may  build  a  cathedral, 
And  Wisdom  may  pray  therein. 

Though  Folly  knows  how  to  make  money, 
He  spends  it  full  oft  like  a  fool, 

And  Wisdom  may  do  the  same  also, 
But  it  is  not  always  the  rule. 

If  Folly  were  better  than  Wisdom, 
'Twere  foolish  for  us  to  be  wise, 

Perhaps  though  there's  folly  in  wisdom, 
And  wisdom  in  folly  oft  lies. 


177 


THE  OLD  OAK'S  REVERIE. 

I've  stood  and  fought  for  centuries  past 
The  storms  of  wind  which  beat, 

And  hurled  their  fury  on  my  head, 
But  could  not  me  defeat. 

Though  generations  have  passed  on, 

And  gone  to  their  last  rest. 
I've  stood  the  ravages  of  time, 

Have  ever  borne  the  test 

Of  summer's  heat,  of  winter's  cold, 
And  lightning's  scorching  blast. 

Unconquered  been  in  nature's  fight, 
As  if  of  iron  cast. 

Sometimes  when  storms  beat  on  my  head, 

I  little  cared  for  life; 
I  would  have  giv'n  the  battle  up, 

With  all  its  fierce,  fierce  strife. 


178 


But  then  again  I  felt  life's  love 
Go  coursing  through  my  veins, 

And  then  I  felt  impelled  to  say 
I'm  thankful  that  God  reigns. 

Long  years  ago,  —  I  count  them  not, 

A  child  on  hillside  stopped. 
His  pockets  filled  with  acorns  ripe, 

And  one  of  them  he  dropped. 

I  soon  sprang  up  from  out  the  earth, 

With  life  and  hope  so  strong. 
I  took  my  place,  have  kept  it  too 

Through  all  these  centuries  long. 

For  many  years  the  birds  have  built 
Their  nests  beneath  my  boughs, 

Have  sung  their  love  songs  through  the  days, 
Each  day  renewed  their  vows. 


179 


I  learned  their  love  songs  I  am  sure, 
I  shared  their  joy  and  pride; 

When  lover  brought  to  his  old  home 
His  sweetheart,  his  bird  bride. 

I'm  lonely  e'er  when  they  depart 

To  fairer,  warmer  lands. 
Impatiently  await  the  time 

When  Love  again  demands 

Their  secret  nesting  'mong  my  boughs.- 

Again  I'll  hear  Love's  call; 
Will  hear  their  marriage  vows  renewed. 

For  Love  e'en  birds  enthrall. 


180 


INGRATITUDE. 

If  we  should  help  a  friend  in  need 
We  would  not  have  him  kneel 

In  humble,  abject  gratitude; 
And  yet  —  we'd  have  him  feel 

Some  little  kindness  in  his  heart, 

Sometimes  to  it  allude. 
"For  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  " 

Is  base  ingratitude. 

We  try  to  keep  the  rule  laid  down, 
"  Let  not  your  right  hand  know" 

What  e'er  your  left  may  give,  or  do, 
Though  friend  may  change  to  foe. 

Though  friends  ignore  what  we  have  done, 

And  often  cause  us  pain, 
We  still  will  help  to  lift  the  loads, 

And  burdens  on  them  lain. 


181 


"JUDGE  NOT." 

Judge  not  of  others'  lives  by  yours, 

Unless  your  own  is  pure. 
You  know  not  what  the  others  bear 

Or  what  they  may  endure. 

Temptations  may  have  been  too  strong, 

And  they,  alas!    too  weak 
To  cope  with  all  the  sins  in  life, 

And  purity  aye  seek. 

Heredity  is  oft  the  cause; 

And  e'en  the  strongest  mind 
May  find  it  hard  to  overcome; 

For  it,  to  sin  may  bind. 

And  yet  there  is  a  power  within 

To  overcome  all  ill. 
By  cultivating  this  high  power 

All  thought  of  sin  we  kill. 


182 


Yet      do  not  judge  lest  you  be  judged.' 
Look  deep  in  your  own  heart, 

And  you  may  find  some  secret  sin 
That  of  your  life  is  part. 

If  you  are  sinless,  then  you  may 
The  first  stone  throw  at  them; 

If  it  recoils  and  falls  on  you, 
Yourself  you  must  condemn. 

There  are  so  many  pitfalls  deep 

At  every  turn  of  road; 
And  all  life's  paths  so  devious, 

So  heavy  is  life's  load 

That  man  must  carry  up  life's  hill, 

Too  oft  he  falls  by  way; 
But  he  has  strength  to  bear  the  load 

If  he  God's  laws  obey. 


183 


OUR  VIRTUES  ARE  CARVED  UPON 
OUR  TOMBSTONES. 

In  attic  bare  and  dreary, 

With  fingers  blue  with  cold, 

A  man  sat  writing,  writing, 
For  pittance  small  of  gold. 

His  limbs  were  cramped,  and  trembling, 
The  light  was  low  and  dim. 

For  hours  he  had  been  writing, 
And  Hunger  sat  by  him; 

Sat  even  at  his  elbow 

With  taunting  words  of  fame, 
With  promises  alluring 

That  he  would  make  a  name. —       » 


The  morning  light  was  breaking, 
Still  empty  was  his  cot. 

He  seemed  to  be  still  writing. — 
He  had  the  world  forgot. 


184 


In  grave-yard  he  is  lying, 

God's  acre  ' '  is  the  name. 
Cold  criticism  killed  him. 

He  fought  too  hard  for  fame. 


Not  colder  is  the  grave-yard 

Than  was  his  attic  bare, 
When  death  had  claimed  his  victim, 

They  found  his   "  writings  rare  " 

His  name  was  now  emblazoned 
Upon  the  hearts  of  those 

Who  never  did  him  justice, 
Nor  troubled  at  his  woes. 


Thus  Fame,  and  Honor,  Riches, 
Oft  come  to  man  when  dead, 

Are  proud  to  do  him  justice, 
WTith  laurel,  crown  his  head. 


185 


HONOR,  FAME,  OR  LOVE. 

High  Honor  came  to  visit  me, 
And  with  him  goddess  Fame. 

But  Happiness  deserted  me 

When  Fame  and  Honor  came. 

I  courted  Honor,  courted  Fame, 
They  coldly  smiled  on  me; 

They  soon  became  unwelcome  guests, 
For  they  caused  Love  to  flee. 

I  fain  would  then  have  cast  aside 
The  guests  which  I  had  sought. 

Alas !      It  was  too  late,  for  they 
Had  then  the  evil  wrought. 

They  were  installed  as  guests  of  mine, 

But  soon  I  weary  grew 
Of  their  commands,  of  their  demands, 

And  begged  that  Love  renew 


186 


Dominion  o'er  my  heart  and  home; 

For  home  is  drear  indeed, 
Though  lacking  nothing  but  sweet  Love; 

For  Love  the  world  doth  lead. 

My  guests  brought  Jealousy  one  day. 

Destroyer  it,  of  peace. 
When  he  came  in,  Love  fled  in  fright, 

And  took  with  her  sweet  peace. 

For  Honor,  Fame,  and  Love,  can  ne'er 

In  peace  together  dwell. 
When  Jealousy  once  joins  the  throng, 

It  is  Love's  funeral  knell. 

When  Love  within  our  household  reigns 

Let  none  usurp  her  place. 
She  is  the  queen  that  e'er  should  rule, 

And  none  should  her  abase. 


187 


COURAGE. 

You  will  not  find  the  bravest  men 

Upon  the  battle  ground; 
For  in  the  quiet  ranks  of  life 

Great  courage  oft  is  found. 

Though  man  may  fight  with  brother  man 

In  battle's  fierce  array, 
He  may  not  have  the  courage  to 

Combat  what  others  say. 

If  others  are  of   "higher  grade  "  ; 

To  gain  himself  a  place 
Upon  the  social  rung  of  life, 

He  may  their  views  embrace. 

If  e'er  the  time  shall  come  to  you 
When  you  will  shrink  with  fear, 

And  do  not  dare  defend  your  views, 
Though  they  to  you  are  dear 


188 


Let  not  your  courage  fail  you  then. — 

Be  sure  that  you  are  right, 
Then  never  swerve  from  truth  one  point, 

And  for  the  truth  e'en  fight. 

Though  courage  needed  is  in  life, 

And  should  of  life  be  part, 
Perverted  it  should  never  be, 

Nor  rule  a  loving  heart. 

1  The  race  is  not  aye  for  the  swift, 

Nor  battle,  for  the  strong. ' ' 

Have  courage  to  uphold  the  right. 

And  to  denounce  the  wrong. 


189 


PERSEVERE. 

Starting  out  to  fight  Life's  battles, 

Persevere,  persevere. 
Though  at  first  you  may  be  worsted, 

Persevere. 

Though  Life's  road  be  rough,  and  thorny, 

Persevere,  persevere. 
Never  falter  by  the  wayside; 

Persevere. 

Though  your  burdens  may  be  heavy, 

Persevere,  persevere. 
Never  drop  them  by  the  roadside; 

Persevere. 

Your  ideal  should  be  high  heaven. 

Persevere,  persevere. 
By  perseverance  you  will  gain  it. 

Persevere. 


190 


In  this  world,  if  seeking  pleasure, 
You  will  find,  alas!    but  tears. 

But  in  doing  every  duty, 
Persevere. 

E'en  though  hard  may  be  the  battle 
For  the  right,  for  the  right. 

You  must  stand  e'er  by  your  colors. 
Persevere. 

Your  companion  must  be  Valor, 

On  your  banner,  Truth. 
Perseverance  be  your  pass-word. 

Persevere. 

If  you've  won  in  Life's  hard  conflict; 

You  must  still  persevere. 
For  another  life  awaits  you. 

Persevere. 


191 


SPEAK  BUT  KIND  WORDS. 

Speak  but  kind  words  to  those  you  love, 

For  there  may  come  a  day 
When  what  you've  said,  and  what  you've  done 

E'er  more  will  with  you  stay. 

If  you  have  unkind  words  to  say, 

O  say  them  to  the  dead ; 
The  dead  cannot  by  them  be  grieved, 

Their  hearts  not  filled  with  dread. 

Nor  filled  with  fear  and  hopelessness. — 

And  you  will  not  regret 
That  you  have  caused  unhappiness. 

For  you  can  ne'  er  forget 

That  you  have  caused  a  loved  one  grief, 

Your  words  have  given  pain. 
You  never  can  forgive  yourself, 

And  Love  you  may  have  slain. 


192 


A  word  seems  but  a  little  thing, 

But  it  may  break  a  heart, 
Though  thought  is  but  a  vapor  light, 

It  causes  many  a  smart. 

It  is  the  little  pin  pricks  sharp 

That  are  so  hard  to  bear. 
We  are  prepared  for  troubles  great, 

And  only  have  our  share. 

Then  speak  kind  words  to  those  you  love, 

It  is  not  hard  to  do. 
Just  keep  a  guard  o'er  thoughts,  and  tongue, 

Then  you'll  have  naught  to  rue. 

When  death  shall  come  to  those  we  love, 

If  we  have  caused  them  pain, 
Repentance  then  will  be  too  late, 

Regrets  will  then  be  vain. 


193 


VAGARY. 

Vagary  is  stalking  all  over  the  land, 
His  home  is  a  hut,  or  a  palace  most  grand. 
Whatever  his  folly,  no  matter  how  wild, 
Some  one  will  accept  it,  by  it,  be  beguiled. 

Vagary  once  built  a  "  Home"  on  a  hill, 
And  hoped  that  his  dupes  his  coffers  would  fill. 
This  "  Home  "  was  a  refuge  for  those  in  distress, 
And,  judging  by  numbers,  it  was  a  success, 

He  promised  a  cure  for  each  ache,  and  each  ill. 
With   lame,    halt,    and   blind,    the    "Home"    did 

soon  fill. 

Vagary  was  doctor,  vagary  was  nurse, 
And  if  at  the  door  stood  ever  a  hearse, 

No  comment  was  made,  and  it  soon  disappeared. 
Respect  had  Vagary,  and  no  one  e'er  sneered. 
Vagary  was  doctor,  and  if  patient  he  killed 
No  one  made  remark,  and  the  place  was  soon  filled. 


194 


Vagary  discovered  an  underground  mine 
Called  "  Bonnevinterre  "  a  lake  of  pure  wine. 
"  Like  sheep  to  the  slaughter,"  the  people  all  rushed, 
The  mine  proved  a  myth,  and  their  hopes  were  all 
crushed. 

Vagary  then  started  a  charity  scheme, 

To  write  all  the  bylaws  took  a  full  ream 

Of      Fool's  Cap"  commercial;  for  written  thereon 

Were  benefits  gained,  and  dividends  won. 

O  help  the  poor  widows  and  orphans ' '  he  cried, 
And  money  flowed  in  on  every  side. 
Vagary  was  treasurer,  and  bookkeeper  too, 
Received  all  the  dividends  when  they  were  due. 

The  widows  got  little,  the  orphans  still  less, 
He  ever  was  talking  of  their  great  distress. 
Vagary  grew  richer,  and  richer  each  day, 
For  charity  well  managed,  ever  will  pay. 


195 


He  next  discovered  a  marvelous  light, 
Compared  to  it,  e'en  the  sun  was  as  night. 
Directly  all  other  lights  became  dim, 
As  usual,  the  money  poured  in  unto  him. 

He  now  with  the  highest  magnates  took  rank, 
For  money  he  had  in  every  bank. 
But  magnates,  like  others,  sometime  must  die, 
And  in  the  same  earth  with  poverty  lie. 

Vagary  grew  ill,  and  gave  up  the  ghost, 
But  with  his  last  breath  he  still  made  the  boast 
That  every  ill  on  earth  he  could  cure. 
And  even  though  dying,  did  many  allure. 


196 


THE  HOME  BEAUTIFUL. 

'Tis  not  a  palace  built  of  marble, 
'Tis  not  a  mansion  made  of  stone, 

'Tis  not  a  hostelry  of  splendor, 
Nor  a  seat  upon  a  throne. 

It  may  be  but  a  humble  cottage 
With  loving  welcome  at  the  door, 

With  sunshine  peeping  in  at  window, 
And  lighting  up  the  naked  floor. 

It  may  be  but  a  tent  by  brookside, 
But  air  is  pure,  and  water  sweet. 

The  tent  is  home  of  rarest  splendor, 
If  Love,  by  brookside,  doth  you  greet. 

'  Tis  love  that  gives  to  home  its  beauty, 
It  is  not  honor,  riches,  fame. 

For  Love  will  light  up  every  corner, 
In  home  of  beauty  is  Love's  name. 


197 


THE  BEATITUDES. 

Once  Honesty  and  Faith  combined 

To  find  for  each  a  mate. 
They  searched  for  Love  all  in  vain, 

They  only  found  fierce  Hate. 

Forever  Love  eluded  them; 

For  Love  is  hard  to  win. 
They  gave  up  Love,  and  searched  for  Faith, 

For  Faith,  to  Love  is  kin. 

When  Faith  and  Honesty  are  wed, 

If  Love  will  place  her  seal, 
Confirmed  is  then  the  marriage  vow, 

From  it  there's  no  appeal 

When  Love,  and  Truth,  and  Honesty, 

In  wedded  life  is  found; 
When  Faith  shall  be  their  handmaid  pure, 

The  four  together  bound ; 


198 


There  will  be  Peace  and  Harmony, 
For  Love  has  found  her  nest. 

Now  Happiness  will  join  the  throng, 
And  Love  be  now  at  rest. 

It  is  too  seldom  that  is  found, 
Them  all  combined  in  one, 

There  could  be  Faith,  Truth,  Honesty, 
And  yet  sweet  Love  not  won. 

But  if  together  all  shall  dwell, 
A  heaven  on  earth  is  home, 

No  discord  ever  will  there  be, 
It  is  as  heaven's  dome. 


199 


BURY  THE  PAST. 

Do  we  ever  think  that  others 

May  have  griefs  as  well  as  we? 
Can  we  bear  our  own  griefs  better? 

If  we  know  we'll  sometime  be 
Free  from  trials,  free  from  troubles, 

In  the  happy  by  and  by, 
And  our  burdens,  although  heavy, 

In  a  grave  will  sometime  lie. 

We  should  be  prepared  for  trouble; 

We  should  be  prepared  for  care. 
For  we  know  not  of  the  morrow, 

Nor  what  trials  we  must  bear. 
When  today  has  passed  beyond  us 

It  is  gone  forever,  aye, 
And  today  should  then  be  buried 

In  the  grave  of  yesterday. 


200 


Though  today  we  are  in  bondage, 

We  tomorrow  may  be  free 
From  the  yesterdays  of  sorrow; 

E'en  look  back  on  them  with  glee. 
Then  the  dead,  dead  past  we'll  bury 

In  a  shroud,  and  then  forget 
All  the  past  that  was  unhappy 

O'er  that  past  we  will  not  fret. 

We  can  happy  be,  though  burdens 

May  be  hard  for  us  to  bear, 
Happy  be,  and  e'en  contented, 

Though  we  have  much  grief  and  care. 
If  we  know  that  the  tomorrows 

Will  to  us  bring  sweet  relief. 
All  the  yesterdays  we'll  bury, 

And  will  shed  no  tears  of  griej. 


201 


TO  A  FRIEND  ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY. 

Thy  years  are  pearls  strung  on  Life's  chain, 

Not  counted  they  by  days,  nor  years. 
But  numbered  by  the  good  thou'st  done; 

And  friend  thou  needest  have  no  fears 
That  pearls  have  ever  tarnished  been; 

Thou'st  kept  them  bright  by  good  thou'st  done. 
For  thou  hast  many  burdens  borne, 

And  thou  hast  many  vict'ries  won 
In  Life's  hard  battles  for  the  right. 

Thou  oft  hast  had  temptations  strong, 
But  thou  hast  ever  conquered  them, 

And  thou  hast  overcome  all  wrong. 

Congratulations  I  give  thee, 

On  this,  thy  happy  natal  day, 
And  this  shall  be  my  earnest  prayer, 

That  pearls  of  love  be  thine  alway. 


202 


HAVE  IDEALS. 

My  ideals  are  the  highest, 

Though  my  feet  rest  on  the  sod. 

I  aspire  e'en  to  high  heaven, 
Even  to  the  "throne  of  God." 

And  I  think  it  is  much  better 
That  we  soar  above  the  stars, 

Than  to  grovel  in  the  low-lands, 
Or  behind  a  prison's  bars. 

Though  ourselves  have  built  the  prison 
That  confines  our  souls  therein; 

We  must  ever  live  in  darkness 
Till  we  break  the  bars  within, 

And  escape  into  God's  sunshine, 
To  the  sunshine  of  the  soul; 

And  live  up  to  our  ideals, 
And  take  heaven  as  our  goal. 


203 


SELFISHNESS. 

We  really  do  not  understand 

That  which  within  us  lies. 
We  think  that  we  have  conquered  self, 

And  then  there  will  arise 
Some  serious  point  within  our  hearts; 

Some  question  there  will  be  — 
Some  preconceived  idea  of  self; 

It  vital  seems  to  be. 

We  must  begin  all  o'er  again. 

For  self  must  conquered  be. 
We  must  accept  the  ' '  Golden  Rule  ' ' , 

From  selfishness  be  free. 
Deep  in  the  gardens  of  our  hearts 

We've  sowed  broadcast  the  seeds 
Of  selfishness;   they've  taken  root, 

Producing  noxious  weeds. 


204 


In  time,  by  watchfulness  and  care 

We  may  exterminate 
Each  selfish  thought  within  our  hearts, 

And  love  accumulate. 
We  e'en  are  selfish  in  our  love, 

And  selfish  in  our  hate; 
For  Self  doth  rule  with  selfish  hand, 

E'er  sits  within  our  gate. 

The  ego  is  e'er  uppermost; 

We  ever  look  within. 
Self  magnifies  what  good  there  is, 

But  overlooks  the  sin. 
She  sits  upon  the  highest  throne, 

And  on  the  lowest  stool. 
Self  governs  every  act  in  life; 

For  self  doth  ever  rule. 


205 


And  Self  is       mightier  than  the  sword." 

If  given  once  control 
She  conquers  all  there  is  of  us 

In  mind,  in  heart,  in  soul. 
Then  let  us  bury  selfishness 

In  grave  with  selfish  deeds. 
Erect  a  monument  to  Love 

From  stones  cut  from  good  deeds. 


206 


LIFF  IS  NOTHING  WITHOUT  LOVE. 

Though  of  down  may  be  your  pillow, 
And  most  sumptuous  be  your  bed, 

All  your  dreams  will  be  unhappy, 
Unless  Love  sits  at  your  head. 

Though  your  table  may  be  loaded, 
With  rich  viands  e'er  be  spread; 

All  will  be  most  flat  and  tasteless, 
Unless  Love  shall  break  the  bread. 

Though  you  travel  o'er  creation, 
Have  all  things  that  you  demand; 

Nothing  meets  your  expectation, 
Unless  Love  does  by  you  stand. 

Though  you  dwell  in  gorgeous  palace, 
Even  though  you  may  be  king. 

All  is  vanity,  and  joyless, 

If  sweet  Love  is  on  the  wing. 


207 


THE  CENTURY  FLOWER. 

What  wakened  thee  from  thy  long  sleep? 

Who  told  thee  when  to  bloom? 
A  century  seems  a  long,  long  time 

For  thee  to  lie  in  gloom. 

How  didst  thou  know  when  to  arise? 

And  thy  new  garment  don ; 
Thou   mightst  have  slept  thy  life  away 

Whilst  time  was  going  on. 

Was  there  a  power  within  thy  soul? 

A  wish  within  thy  heart? 
To  soar  above  all  other  flowers, 

And  with  the  birds  take  part 

In  singing  songs  of  grateful  joy 
That  thou  hast  waked  from  sleep, 

That  thou  again  dost  see  the  light, 
Hast  risen  from  the  deep: 


208 


The  grave  where  thou  so  long  hast  lain. 

To  raise  thy  head  on  high, 
And  looking  up  to  Deity 

Once  more;   then  droop  and  die. 

Alas !      Thy  days  are  all  too  short 

For  thy  long  dreamless  sleep. 
When  thou  dost  wake  again  to  life, 

Wilt  thou  awake  to  weep? 

If  thou  rememberest  aught  of  past, 

Thou  mayst  perhaps  regret 
The  flowers,  and  trees,  now  dead  and  gone, 

And  for  them  mourn  e'en  yet. 

A  generation  will  have  passed; 

A  new  one  thou  wilt  greet; 
All  will  be  strangers  unto  thee, 

No  friend  of  past  thou' It  meet. 


209 


LIFE'S  MUSIC. 

Though  life  may  seem  a  symphony, 

It  is  a  sad,  sad  song. 
Its  music  is  a  funeral  dirge, 

And  weary  are  the  throng 
Who  march  to  a  weird  threnody 

Life's  long,  and  gloomy  day, 
The  road  made  rough  by  all  the  ills 

That  meet  us  on  our  way. 

The  road,  though  long  and  devious 

Hath  guide  posts  on  its  way. 
Though  there  are  many  sharp,  sharp  turns, 

If  guide  posts  we  obey, 
We  safely  reach  our  journey's  end, 

And  rest  beneath  the  shade 
Of  Love's  cwn  tree,  whose  buds,  and  flowers 

Of  hope  will  never  fade. 


210 


Disheartened  though  we  often  are 

Upon  the  uphill  road. 
If  hope  within  our  hearts  is  strong 

'Twill  lighten  every  load; 
The  saddest  song  be  turned  to  joy, 

Sweet  music  fill  the  soul. 
Triumphant  will  our  life  march  be 

Until  we  reach  our  goal. 

The  final  song  we  then  shall  sing. 

Life's  measure  be  complete. 
No  minor  chord  shall  lower  life's  song, 

Nor  sound  for  us  defeat. 
The  meter  of  our  lives  shall  be 

Exultant  melody. 
No  sad  refrain  shall  e'er  be  sung, 

Nor  doleful  threnody. 


211 


LOVE'S  GARDEN. 

Sow  the  seeds  of  loving  kindness, 
And  then  gather  flowers  of  joy. 

Cultivate  e'er  peace  and  gladness, 
Life  will  then  have  no  alloy. 

Pluck  the  weeds  that  e'er  are  growing 

In  the  garden  of  the  heart. 
Train  up  all  Love's  little  tendrils 

They  are  of  life  the  sweetest  part. 

Prune  the  trees  that  bear  but  discord, 
And  then  graft  sweet  peace  thereon. 

Ever  help  those  who  have  trouble, 
Pointing  out  to  them  Love's  morn. 

In  Love's  garden,  if  the  shadow 
Of  the  Cyprus  hides  Love's  way. 

Plant  the  asphodel ;  its  brightness 

Will  burst  forth,  and  light  Love's  day. 


212 


Clear  Love's  garden  of  its  wormwood, 
And  plant  heartsease  there  instead. 

'Tis  not  fitting  that  aught  bitter 

Should  e'er  grow  where  Love  has  led. 

In  all  gardens  are  not  roses, — 

But  rank  weeds  grow  everywhere, 

And  it  may  be  God's  intention 

That  the  weeds  should  be  your  care. 

There  are  many  hearts  now  aching 
For  a  loving  word  from  you. 

In  their  hearts  is  bitter  wormwood, 
In  their  gardens  grow  the  rue. 

You  should  plant  for  them  sweet  roses, 
Give  Love's  sunshine  ever,  aye. 

From  their  hearts  take  all  the  darkness, 
In  its  place  put  Love's  bright  ray. 


213 


THE  LAST  PORT. 

My  ship  of  life  has  left  its  moorings 

To  sail  upon  an  unknown  sea. 
Though  ship  is  staunch,  and  ne'  er  has  failed  me, 

Life's  bearings  are  unknown  to  me. 

I  have  no  chart,  I  have  no  compass, 
But  my  life' s  voyage  must  be  made, 

When  once  life's  ship  on  way  has  started, 
The  laws  of  life  must  be  obeyed. 

Each  day  the  log  must  be  well  written; 

Be  kept  with  truthfulness,  and  care. 
In  it  must  be  not  one  false  entry, 

For  close  inspection  it  must  bear. 

With  courage  I  will  start  on  voyage, 
For  God  will  guide  me  o'er  the  bar, 

Lest  I  be  dashed  upon  the  breakers. 
The  Port  of  Death  is  not  so  far. 


214 


I  must  go  on  though  storms  assail  me, 
This  voyage  means  so  much  to  me. 

No  other  refuge  can  I  enter, 
I  sail  for  Port  Eternity. 

Without  a  chart,  without  a  compass, 
The  star  of  Hope  shall  be  my  guide, 

And  I  shall  have  no  fear  of  shipwreck, 
For  all  Life's  storms  I  shall  outride. 

My  ship  is  making  its  last  voyage, 

'Tis  well  I  chose  dear  Hope  $  bright  star, 

To  guide  me  to  my  heavenly  harbor 
With  God  to  help  me  o'er  the  bar. 

My  ship  will  safely  reach  its  landing, 
And  God  will  meet  me  at  death's  bar; 

Will  not  forsake  me  at  Life's  ending. 
Thank  God  for  Hope,  my  guiding  star. 


215 


CANST  TELL  ME? 

Canst  thou  tell  me  dear  friend  of  the  other  side? 

Of  thy  beautiful  home  over  there. 
Dost  thou  love  us  the  same  as  when  here  on  earth? 

Canst  thou  help  us  our  burdens  to  bear? 

And  is  heaven  the  same  thou  once  thought  it  was? 

Hast  thou  met  thy  dear  friends  gone  before? 
Wouldst  thou  wish  to  come  back  to  this  earth  again? 

To  again  live  thy  life  as  of  yore? 

All  its  pains  and  its  griefs  to  take  up  again, 
Were  earth's  joys  compensation  for  woe .? 

Art  thou  glad  that  thou'st  lived,  and  loved,  and  e'en 

died? 
Canst  thou  now  upon  others  bestow 

The  sweet  peace  that  is  thine,  the  love  of  thy  soul  ? 

Canst  thou  teach  us  to  live,  and  to  die  ? 
Canst  thou  meet  us,  and  guide  us  to  heaven  above, 

Solve  the  problems  that  in  us  e'er  lie? 


216 


I've  lived  my  life,  thou  must  live  thine. 

In  thine  own  soul  life's  problems  lie. 
I  cannot  teach  thee  how  to  live, 

I  cannot  teach  thee  how  to  die. 

Take  up  thy  burdens,  and  thy  cares. 

With  patience  bear  thy  every  grief. 
Thy  back  is  fitted  for  each  cross, 

Deaih  is  surcease,  and  brings  relief. 

Though  I  have  passed  from  earth  away, 
I  still  do  feel  what  thou  must  bear. 

But  knowing  what  thy  crosses  are, 
I  say,  be  brave,  thy  crosses  bear. 

Do  what  thou  canst  for  others'  weal, 
Do  what  thou  canst  to  conquer  sin. 

Then  leave  the  rest  in  hands  of  God. 
With  pitying  love  he  looks  within, 


217 


And  sees  the  burdens  thou  must  bear. 

He  knows  how  weak,  and  sore  distressed 
His  earthly  children  ever  are. 

But  in  His  love  they're  more  than  blessed. 

Have  courage,  patience,  pity,  love, 

Have  charity  for  all  who  sin. 
Thou  need'st  not  look  abroad  for  faults, 

To  find  them,  friend,  O  look  within. 


218 


THE  SOUL  SEEKING  FOR  PERFECTION. 

One  day  my  soul  a  journey  went; 
It  traveled  East,  it  traveled  West, 
It  searched  in  vain  one  soul  to  find 
That  able  was  to  bear  the  test 
Of  perfect  living,  perfect  love; 
E'en  in  the  best  it  found  some  flaw; 
Some  lack  of  truth,  some  selfishness; 
Not  rjne  had  kept  the   "  Perfect  Law". 

Discouraged,  weary,  sore  distressed; 

It  gladly  turned  again  to  home. 

It  thought  perfection  there  to  find, — 

No  farther  it  would  have  to  roam. 

Alas!      Though  once  more  snugly  housed, 

Perfection  was  not  found  therein. 

Contented  it  could  never  be; 

For  e'en  at  home  it  found  much  sin, 


219 


O  Soul!    Though  you  have  found  much  sin; 
You've  also  found  much  that  was  good. 
Temptations  overcome  by  man, — 
Known  many  ills  he  has  withstood. 

Perfection  is  not  found  on  earth  — 
If  it  were  so,  no  one  would  know 
The  joy  of  helping  man  to  bear 
Up  under  all  the  grief  and  woe 
That  is  the  heritage  of  life; 
Bequeathed  to  man  before  his  birth. 
Be  not  discouraged  then,  O  Soul, 
Expect  to  find  much  sin  on  earth. 


220 


LIFE'S  THOUGHTLESSNESS. 

With  careless  feet  we  trample  down 
Love's  sweetest  flowers  oftimes. 

Life's  music  has  so  many  sharps, 
Discordant  are  Love's  rhymes. 

With  selfish  hands  we  ever  grasp 

At  what  we  think  is  best. 
Unmindful  we  of  others'  needs 

Or  what  is  their  behest. 

The  thoughtless  words  we  oftimes  speak 

Recalled  can  never  be. 
The  heedless  censure  of  a  friend 

Can  ne'er  forgotten  be. 

The  unjust  judgment  which  we  give 

May  wean  from  us  a  friend. 
Impatient  words  are  daggers  sharp 

That  will  Love's  heart  aye  rend. 


221 


With  selfish  greed  we  grasp  life's  joys; 

No  care  for  others'  woes. 
The  world  is  welcome  to  the  thorns, 

If  we  can  keep  the  rose. 

If  our  own  ship  outrides  the  gale, 
Life's  bar  we've  safely  crossed  — 

All  other  ships  may  be  engulfed; 
Or  on  rough  waves  be  tossed. 

Our  careless  words  may  pierce  some  heart, 

And  cause  it  deepest  pain  — 
Awakening  memories  of  the  past 

Which  long  in  grave  have  lain. 

'Tis  ever  so  in  life  I  fear. 

Love's  flowers  neglected  are. 
The  weeds  will  thrive  where  flowers  die, 

And  thus  Love's  garden  mar. 


222 


THE  FLOWER'S  PRAYER  FOR 
IMMORTALITY. 

The  fragrance  of  th'  dying  flower 

Ascends  'e'en  unto  God; 
Returning  to  its  Maker 

From  birthplace  'neath  the  sod. 

Its  soul  goes  forth  in  anthems; 

In  songs  of  praise  to  Him 
Who  gave  to  it  existence, — 

And,  dying,  sings  a  hymn 

Of  thanks,  and  of  rejoicing 

To  God  for  its  short  life, 
Which  e'er  hath  been  a  symphony, 

With  naught  of  care,  nor  strife. 

Its  God  hath  given  it  sunshine, 
Its  God  hath  given  it  food. 

Bequeathed  to  it  the  dewdrops, 
He  hath  pronounced  it  good. 


223 


It  longs  to  soar  to  heaven, 
So  breathes  its  fragrance  rare 

To  God,  as  invocation. 

To  Him  sends  forth  this  prayer 


O  God  accept  my  perfume, 
'Tis  all  I  have  to  give. — 

0  I  would  be  immortal: 
I  would  forever  live, 

The  flower  Thou  hast  created, 
Wouldst  live  forever,  aye. — 

What  use  would  be  its  fragrance? 
If  lost  'mid  shadows  gray. — 

1  claim  of  Thee  my  birthright, 

My  fragrance  is  my  soul. 
Though  earth  hath  been  my  birthplace, 

High  heaven  is  my  goal. 
Take  back  what  Thou  hast  given, 

'Tis  fit  for  heavenly  bower; 
Accept  it  O  my  Maker, 

This  incense  of  a  flower. 


224 


E'en  in  my  earthly  prison, 

When  I  was  but  a  seed, 
Thou  spakest  words  so  loving. 

That  upward  they  didst  lead 
My  soul  from  out  its  darkness 

Into  thy  glorious  light. 
It  burst  the  bars  of  prison, 

Became  a  flower  bright. 
To  Thee  I  gave  my  fragrance  — 

I  breathed  to  Thee  a  prayer, 
A  prayer  of  adoration 

That  sensed  is  everywhere. 
All  life,  however  lowly, 

Is  one,  and  part  with  Thee  — 
By  Thee  it  was  created, 

And  claims  eternity. 


225 


LOVE'S  OFFERING. 

I  have  no  rare  jewels  to  give  thee, 

No  diamonds,  no  pearls;    and  of  gold 

But  one  little  circlet,  as  emblem 
That  love  will  thee  ever  enfold. 

Thy  home  will  be  only  a  cottage, 
And  even  the  floors  may  be  bare. 

The  furnishings  be  the  most  simple, 
And  frugal  be  also  the  fare. 

The  cottage  will  be  by  the  brookside, 
By  willows  so  shady  and  cool. 

Thy  beauty  will  be  e'  er  reflected 
In  mirror  that  is  but  a  pool. 

Thou  wilt  not  be  decked  in  fine  linen; 

E'en  cotton  may  be  all  thy  gowns. 
But,  love-words  will  e'er  be  my  greeting, 

And  kisses  take  place  of  dark  frowns. 


226 


My  love  is  the  most  I  can  offer  — 
Will  love  cover  up  a  bare  floor? 

Or  will  it  fly  out  of  the  window, 
If  poverty  enters  at  door? 

I  know  that  thy  beauty  would  honor 

A  palace,  instead  of  a  cot. 
That  silks  should  be  e'er  thy  adorning, 

But  happiness  ne'er  can  be  bought. 

In  palace  there  can  be  much  sorrow, 
'Neath  jewels  may  be  broken  heart. — 

Though  clothed  in  the  finest  apparel, 
All  naked  the  wound,  and  the  smart 

That  comes  from  a  troth  that  is  broken ; 

That  comes  from  a  love  that  is  cold. 
'Thout  love,  e'en  a  palace  is  dreary, 

Though  furnished  with  jewels,  and  gold. 

Then,  darling,  take  what  I  can  offer  — 
My  heart  filled  with  love,  and  my  home 

A  nest  for  my  birdling,  my  sweetheart, 
And  never  from  thee  will  I  roam. 


227 


LOVE'S  ACCEPTANCE. 

Love's  jewels  are  better  than  baubles. — 

A  palace  may  not  be  a  home; 
Unhappiness  dwelling  within  it 

Though  jeweled  from  throne-room  to  dome 

Love's  jewels  are  all  that  I  ask  for; 

True  love  is  more  precious  than  gold, 
I  wish  not  for  palace,  nor  mansion 

Thine  arms  shall  me  ever  enfold. 

A  sip  from  Love's  brook  is  far  better 
Than  wine  from  a  gold  jeweled  cup. 

'Tis  poison  in  chalice,  if  Hatred 
Sits  with  us  at  table  to  sup. 

The  mirror  I  crave  is  the  love-light 

That  beams  in  thine  eyes,  and  thy  face, 

And,  cottage  when  furnished  with  love-deeds; 
Of  poverty  shows  not  a  trace. 


228 


Love  ever  looks  upward,  not  downward, 
Will  therefore  not  think  of  bare  floor; 

And  will  not  fly  out  of  the  window, 
Though  Poverty  enters  at  door. 

My  gowns  may  be  cotton,  or  linen; 

It  matters  but  little  to  me. — 
My  beauty  is  not  of  much  value, 

Unless  it  is  pleasing  to  thee. 

The  nest  thou  hast  built  by  the  brookside, 

Is  better,  far  better  for  me 
Than  mansion,  or  palace,  or  castle; 

No  shadow  within  shall  there  be. 

But  echoing  songs  of  thy  "birdling" 
Shall  fill  every  corner,  and  nook. 

The  willows  shall  be  sylvan  bowers; 
And  fountain  of  love  shall  be  brook. 


229 


AUTUMN  LEAVES. 

I  now  have  culled  from  out  Life's  forest 
These  Antumn  Leaves  which  I  shall  send  you 
They  have  been  pressed  into  service 
For  my  little  book. 

Perhaps  if  you  the  leaves  had  chosen, 

You  would  have  culled  more  brilliant  colors, 

And  pressed  them  better  too. 

By  careful  searching  you  may  find  one 
That  pleases  you  by  word,  or  measure, 
And  cherished  e'en  will  be. 

I  hope  that  you  will  take  some  pleasure 
In  reading  book,  and  conning  measure. 
But  kindly  criticise. 

I  give  my  leaves  into  your  keeping, 
I  hope  with  love  you  will  receive  them, 
These  offsprings  of  my  heart. 


230 


FINALE. 

My   "Autumn  Leaves"   are  gathered, 
And  now  they  must  be  pressed. 

I  hope  they  will  give  pleasure, 
And  hearts  by  them  be  blessed. 


X*?^13 
f  OF  THE 

[UNIVERSITY 


OF 


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